The Footballer in the Fall
by bwayfan25
Summary: The fall quarter is well underway at the University of Coolsville, but a cloud seems to hang over the campus since the recent unsolved murder of the star quarterback. Daphne Blake and Fred Jones have been doing their best to solve it, but have hit a wall. Just as they're ready to give up hope, they meet a few friends and a dog who might be able to help. 1960s college AU.
1. Chapter 1

Daphne Blake walked silently past the tall bookshelves of the University of Coolsville library. Students all around her sat at long tables, their heads down, backs bent over whatever subject they worked on. The occasional clicks of a distant typewriter could be heard echoing down a hallway, though the typist was far away.

She didn't want to be noticed given the work she was on her way to do, but she always felt like she was. Her bright purple dresses and black skin were still considered out of place at the small, conservative and _very_ white college. It was 1969. Supposedly they were past all this. Daphne knew better.

Finally, after what felt like forever, she found the small study room hidden by shelves she sought. She slid in, closing the door carefulyl behind her and turned around.

A young man, with a chiseled jawline and bright blonde hair was waiting for her. His college sweater, white with bright blue pockets and a yellow "C" embroidered on the chest, pulled taught over his defined chest and shoulders.

With little hesitation, Daphne pulled him into a deep hug, which he reciprocated. His strong arms held her for at least five minutes. They said nothing, just allowing each other to be close to one another. In Daphne's opinion, it was her favorite spot in the world.

At last they broke apart.

"What did you find out?" Fred asked quietly as he and Daphne took a seat at the study table.

"Not very much," Daphne said. She set her bag on the table, and pulled out a textbook titled _Public Speaking_.

She opened the book and dumped out several pages worth of handwritten notes. There were scraps of papers with addresses and phone numbers, as well as several notecards printed with books and page numbers.

"We've got so much information but can't put anything together. There's... there's nothing to connect the suspects together and certainly nothing to connect them to the murder," Daphne explained, sifting through the papers. She picked up a small envelope and handed it to Fred. "This could be something, but it makes no sense. Clearly a code, but nothing I've seen before."

Fred pulled out a small faded letter from the envelope. The writing was written in cursive, and was clearly legible, but none of the words on the page made sense. It read as follows:

Bein Gyrid,

W fada pcev oc daz wkcy, jqh qowj wr wqhz ze wrsp. I xnckiaa mmu laop, I ewzj sma ss ibdfmuod. Rm nwp tmroaw rhip. W joda mmv ak ascp.

Owlcmnsjy,

Lwbly

"I mean, it's a letter," Fred said, scanning through the letter a second time. "That much is for certain. And from what I can tell, it's encoded English. See this? It has the same amount of letters as 'sincerely'. But none of the letters are repeated in a distingushiable pattern, so that's as much as I can say."

"What if we try to take it to a professor? Like in the math department? Maybe they can plug it into a formula and decode it for us," Daphne suggested.

"Nah. We're not supposed to let on what we're doing to anyone. And if this turns out to say anything, uh, uncouth, the last people we want to know is the administration," Fred replied.

"That's true," Daphne rested her chin in her hand. "If only we knew someone who could solve it but wouldn't snitch on us. But I have no idea of anyone who could solve a code like this that's not paid to teach here."

Fred shook his head. Daphne put a reassuring hand on his, and squeezed tight.

"We'll figure it out. Don't you worry. We'll figure out who killed him and they'll get what's coming to them," Daphne reassured him. Fred nodded solemnly. He grimaced, and she squeezed his hand again.

The doorknob turned silently, unnoticed by the couple who were deep in thought. The door squeaked open.

Before the young woman who entered could even look up, the pair had jumped up from their seats. Daphne snatched up all the notes and swept them into her bag.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," the girl stammered as she noticed the couple. "I-I didn't know anyone was in here. I'll come back later-"

"No it's fine," Daphne said quickly. She looked to Fred, who nodded and began to make his way around the table. "We were just leaving anyway..."

"I don't...I don't want you to leave on my account," the girl said. She pushed her thick rimmed glasses up on her nose, and redoubled her grip on the books in her arms.

"No really. It's fine," Daphne said, slipping past her and out into the library. Fred followed just behind her.

"It's all yours," Fred muttered. He gave a nod to the girl and he and Daphne disappeared behind the shelves.

Velma turned away from the door to observe the empty room. A familiar feeling settled in her stomach as she set her books down on the polished wood. She pulled out a chair and sat down, letting out a small groan of relief as the weight lifted from her left leg.

She didn't _want_ them to leave. She wanted them to have just stayed there and worked on whatever they were doing. She wasn't going to bother them. She just wanted company. She always just wanted company.

Alone now, she set her bag down on the floor beside her chair. Unconsciously, she pulled up her knee socks, a practice she had gotten into as she started to find scratch marks from the metal brace she wore that was now at least one size too small. Without even realizing it, she found herself staring at a small envelope on the floor under the table. She reached down and picked it up, figuring it must have belonged to the couple that had just left the room.

 _Probably a love letter_ , she thought to herself as she slid the letter out of the envelope.

It was encoded, that much was true. Velma counted the letters. No patterns of letters. No letter stood out a higher volume amongst the others.

She turned over the envelope. No name or address. A small pencil mark caught her eye. She turned the envelope over again, and peered inside. There, on the inside of the envelope, was the word "Casem" written in the same writing as the letter.

 _Casem Hall?_ she thought. _No wait..._ _C-A-S-E-M... Five letters... Maybe it's a..._

She didn't even finish the thought before she dove into her bag to retrieve a book, hardbound in a green cover. Golden print on the cover read _Ciphers and Cryptology for the 20th Century._

She flipped through it, coming to rest on a chapter labeled _The Vigenère Cipher_ _._ She flipped a few more pages to a table full of letters. Pulling a scrap piece of paper out of a compsition book, she wrote down each letter on the paper, then matched the word _Casem_ to each letter. Following the grid of the table she worked backwards to decrypt the code. Within a minute she had the first two words...

 _Dear Sarah_

She smiled to herself, impressed with her own handiwork. As she set to work decrypting the rest of the message and trying to figure out how to find those two students again to show them, she almost forgot that she had come in the study room to get to work on an essay about the Dewey decimal system.

Almost, being the key word.


	2. Chapter 2

"Excuse me," the professor slammed down a book on his desk, which immediatly stopped all the fidgeting in the room. "There are still five minutes left in class. I have not dismissed you yet."

The students, some of whom had already started rising from their chairs, waited.

"Now. I was going to remind you all that your midterm exam will take place on Monday of next week. We will not be meeting again until then, so I want to remind you to review chapters 2,3,5,8, and 10. As well we will begin discussion for chapter 11 on Wednesday, so you should read pages 312-337, though it will not be covered on the exam," the professor paused. "Alright. _Now_ you may go."

Barely skipping a beat, the students stood and exited en masse from the classroom. Fred and Daphne were amongst the first ones out, followed by a tall skinny kid with dirty blonde hair. Velma, who chose to sit on the far side of her classes, lingered behind the rest.

"Miss Dinkley, can I have a word?" the professor asked as the last few students trickled out.

"Uh, yes sir?"

"I wanted to express some concern. Regarding your last essay."

A feeling like ice plunged deep into Velma's stomach.

"Was there something... wrong with it sir?" she asked, steeling herself for the answer.

"With the essay? Oh no. I didn't mean to imply... No, no. I meant with your placement in this class. Have you taken Philosophy courses before?"

"Um, no sir," Velma replied. "It's my first quarter here sir."

"Well, I couldn't help but wonder because in your last essay you cited Emmanuel Kant. We're not getting into ethics until later in the semester. You proved to have a very clear and deep understanding of his work, which I assumed came from previous study."

"I've studied his work on my own," she pushed her glasses up her nose. "Just for my own interest."

"What are you studying here?"

Velma let out a breath, doing her best not to allow it to sound like a sigh.

"Library sciences, sir."

"Have you considered studying something more...logic based, perhaps?" the professor suggested. "Perhaps if not philosophy itself maybe... analytics? Or even math?"

"I have considered them, yes," Velma shook her head. "My parents won't allow it."

"I would work on them if I were you," the professor pointed at her. "You have a gift for reasoning. That would be a shameful thing to let go to waste."

* * *

Daphne smiled at the sun as she walked to her next class. Coolsville, Ohio had been unusually rainy for the past few weeks. Some said it was because everyone was sad about the murder of Danny Snyder, Coolsville Comets star quarterback. Others said it was just Ohio.

Nevertheless, she enjoyed it. There was only one class left in her schedule for the day, and then she just had to wait for Fred to get done with practice before they could have dinner and study.

"Hey, hey!" a student shouted from somewhere behind her. She turned, as did everyone else in the vicinity.

The person shouting was a young man, probably a freshman. He seemed out of breath.

"There's a sit-in on the football field!" he shouted. "A big group is protesting there right now! The football players came out to "

With little provocation, the students around her started running in the direction of the football field. Daphne paused for a second, considering. Her next class was Public Speaking, and she already had an A+, she knew that for sure.

 _Why not_? she thought to herself, as she joined the hundreds of other students taking off in the direction of the field.

* * *

"Stop the monetarization of sports! Stop the monetarization of sports!" a group of students chanted from the football field.

Fred Jones and his fellow teammates watched from the sidelines as students filed in from all sides to join the protest.

"Let's break this up," a big bulky linebacker next to him said threateningly. He cracked his knucles and went to move forward, but Fred threw out a hand to stop him.

"Let me talk to them. You guys stay here. And don't-" he looked the linebacker straight in the eye. "Do anything that could get you, me, or any of us in trouble."

The linebacker, nearly twice Fred's size considered him for a second. For a moment, it seemed like the guy was ready to pounce, but instead his shoulders dropped and he took a step back. Fred clapped him on the shoulder and turned back to the growing crowd, which seemed to have doubled in just the time it took to look away.

"Alright," Fred shouted, taking a step forward. "Who is a your leader?"

"We're a collaborative!" a girl with long hair and a tie-dye shirt yelled from the crowd. "We have no leader!"

"Okay, well who organized this? I need to speak to _one_ of you."

"You speak to all of us or you speak to no one!" a short stocky guy called from the front row of students.

"I have senstitive information that I can give to _one_ of you. So choose that person, or risk losing that information," Fred called. The crowd grew silent.

"You go Shaggy," a girl beside the tall lanky boy seated in the middle front of the crowd whispered.

"Like dude, why me?"

"Because. You organized this. You go."

Shaggy sighed, but got up nonetheless. He approached Fred, who was already waiting halfway between the crowd and the football team. He gulped as he approached the man ahead of him, who had two inches on him and was at least twice as wide.

"Okay, so I have to say," Fred began. "I support what you're doing here. But we aren't the ones you should be protesting. We don't get any say in how much we get. We're just doing our best to retain our scholarships. If you want to really make a statement, you should protest at the Athletics Administration building, over on Essex Avenue. Tell them you have an inside source that told you that scholarships are strictly for tuition but don't cover anything for room and board. Tell them you know that there are guys on the team who have to work one, sometimes two jobs just to make rent. Tell them that it could be threatening their academic and athletic performance. They'll be sure to listen to you if you tell them that. Just... keep my name out of it."

"Wow, like...thanks dude," Shaggy said appreciatively. "That's great... like that's really gonna be helpful."

"I'm glad," Fred smiled, offering a hand to Shaggy, who shook it. "Now, can we have our field back?"

"Like...In a second? I actually, uh, " Shaggy smiled sheepishly, dropping his voice. "This is actually not just a protest. I'm also kind of covering something. I have, uh, reason to believe that, like Danny Snyder, you know the quarterback? Like, there might be a tie to something in the coach's office here. And like, I can disperse it once I get the signal that my friend got that info."

"Wait, you're looking into the Danny Snyder case too?" Fred asked, his voice low to match Shaggy's. "What do you know?"

"Like not much right now," Shaggy said. "But like, Danny was a good friend of mine growing up. I wanted to do my best to help his family find out how he died. And like, Danny was in talks to go pro once he graduated. But, like I have reason to believe he might have been signed to a contract he didn't know about."

"Whoa," Fred paused, taking in this new information. "Could... could we meet and talk about this further? Because I've got some stuff put together that might be helpful to you, and you've got some stuff that might be helpful to me."

"Like sure," Shaggy nodded. "How about we meet tomorrow night at, like, eight? I've got a house right off campus. Bring your stuff, and I'll bring mine."

"Cool," Fred said smiling. "But I'll need to bring my girlfriend Daphne. She's working with me."

"Groovy," this time it was Shaggy who offered a hand to Fred, who shook it. "I'll bring my best pal, Scooby-Doo."

"We're all set then," Fred nodded, looking around. " _Now_ , can I have the field back?"

Shaggy looked around, and spotted a young guy running towards him. He was young, and was very winded from spreading word of the protest all around campus. He gave Shaggy a thumb's up.

"You sure can."

Shaggy turned to the crowd.

"Let's go protest the admin building. They're the ones who need to hear us."

The crowd was silent for a moment before erupting in roars of agreement. Shaggy led the crowd off the field and out towards the campus. Fred and his team waited another ten minutes before the field was finally clear again.

After their warm-up, Fred led the team back into the lockerroom and the coaches, who came in late due to what they said was an 'importat meeting they could not get out of', started the official practice.

Fred could not concentrate through the entire two and half hours. His mind was repeating the conversation he had had with the beatnik kid who organized the protest. The kid had information, information he was willing to share with him. All he had to do was meet him at his house. Potential suspicions aside, this could be the key they were looking for.

When practice finally ended, Fred ran straight to the locker room to grab his bag and clothes. He didn't even stop to change, let alone shower. He had to get to Daphne, to fill her in on this new news. There was no time to lose.


	3. Chapter 3

"Come on Daph. Open up," Fred muttered as he rapped again on the door to Daphne's apartment.

There was the dull sound of footsteps and the click of a lock. Daphne pulled the door open.

"What are you doing here? I wasn't expect-"

"I had to come as soon as I could. I've got loads to tell you," Fred said quickly. Daphne stepped aside to let him, catching a whiff of him as he passed.

"You didn't shower did you?"

"That's not important," Fred claimed, waving it away. "I need to talk to you about the protest today. You know, the sit-in?"

"Yeah?" Daphne said slowly, taking her seat on the couch. "I saw you talking to the leader kid. Negotiating the terms of disbanding it, I assumed."

"Yes. We did. But that's not the important part," Fred said. He started pacing back and forth across the living room floor. "What's important was that he told me that he's investigating Danny's death. And the protest was part of it. By protesting, he distracted the administration so that one of his friends could break into the coach's office and steal some documents that he believes are connected to Danny's death."

"How could coach's documents be tied to his death? I thought we decided the coaches weren't part of this…?"

"Well, we didn't think they were. But he has reason to believe that Danny was signed to a contract he didn't know about. And everyone knew Danny wanted to play professionally, that was no secret. But what if… what if he had been signed to a contract without his knowledge, and then when he signed his own contract, he voided the other? And maybe that could have provoked the coach or manager… whoever was set to make money off of it?"

Fred continued to pace as Daphne considered this new information. He ran his hand back and forth across his clean-shaven chin.

"So what do we do now? What do we do now that we have this…theory, I guess you'd call it?" Daphne asked.

"Well I told him to meet me at my apartment tomorrow night and we'd compare notes. I said you'd come and he said his bring his friend too."

"Okay. I've got a paper to write, and then I'll review my notes and see if I have anything on the coaches."

Fred stopped pacing and nodded stiffly, his mind clearly elsewhere. He took a step towards Daphne, who had stood to go to the kitchen. His arms were raised for a hug. She stopped him with a finger to his chest.

"Not until you shower."

* * *

Daphne circled the south dining hall at least four times before deciding where she wanted to sit. In truth, she wasn't thinking about lunch. She was performing a mental catalogue; scanning students to figure out who wasn't at the protest and who might be able to give her more information on the meeting that Fred had arranged for the coming evening.

She decided on a small table towards the back of the hall. Setting down her tray, she turned the chair so her back was to the wall and she could see the whole room. Absently picking up single fry after single fry, she continued to scan, checking off name and attendance on a running list in her head.

"Um…excuse me?" a voice said from somewhere to Daphne's right. She turned her head and realized she had sat down at a table that was already occupied, and despite the girl's bright orange sweater, Daphne hadn't even noticed her.

"Oh. I-I didn't see you. Sorry," Daphne said absentmindedly as she picked up her tray and stood up.

"It's okay. If you want to stay. I don't mind. I just… I was just wondering how long you were going to sit here before you noticed I was here," Velma said wryly. "After ten minutes I decided to give in and say something."

Daphne stared at her.

"I…I ignored you for ten minutes?"

"Just about."

"I-I'm sorry," Daphne said apologetically. "I was so far in my own head I didn't even notice you."

"Don't feel bad about it. You're not the first and you certainly won't be the last," Velma muttered. She pulled a piece of onion off the sandwich she was holding and flicked it aside.

Daphne continued to stare at Velma as Velma resumed eating her lunch. Then she smacked the small table, which made Velma jump. Daphne turned her chair to face Velma directly and dropped her voice.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Daphne asked incredulously. "You were the one who snuck into the coach's office, weren't you?"

"Snuck into the- what are you talking about?"

"I mean," Daphne looked around to make sure they weren't being overheard. "I know that someone snuck into the coach's office yesterday to get some documents that might be related to Danny Snyder's death."

"I don't know what you mean," Velma's brow furrowed. "I thought they ruled that an accident?"

"They ruled it an accident. That doesn't mean it was," Daphne shook her head. "But that's just it. We need those documents. And since I don't remember seeing you at the sit-in yesterday-"

"Wait. There was a sit-in yesterday?" Velma threw down her sandwich. "Well that makes sense."

Daphne sat up, confused.

"Wait… you didn't know?"

"No," Velma snorted. "I'm not exactly the first person people run to with news. Or, it seems, the last."

"So you weren't at the sit-in and you weren't sneaking into the coach's office…where were you?" Daphne asked incredulously.

"I went to class! Like I was supposed to."

"And you didn't think it was odd that no one else showed up?"

"Well of course I thought it was odd," Velma spat. "I was getting ready to leave when my professor came in and I got stuck talking to him about American literature for two and a half hours."

"I guess there's worse ways to spend two and a half hours," Daphne shrugged. Velma gave her a look.

"Had it been a discussion about good American literature, it would not have been a bad way to spend two and a half hours. But he insisted on talking about the symbolism of The Red Badge of Courage," Velma crossed her arms. "The red badge of courage is blood. It's just blood. If the protagonist wanted a wound so bad he could have given himself a damn papercut."

Daphne snorted. She sighed. She hadn't realized how much she had been counting on her sudden and mostly unfounded accusation of the other girl's previous days' actions to be true.

"You…were you the ones who left the study room the other day?" Velma asked quietly.

"Yeah. We… we had somewhere to go," Daphne lied.

"Well, you left something behind," Velma informed her. She bent down and pulled a small envelope out of her bag and handed it to Daphne.

Daphne pulled the letter out of the envelope. It was the encrypted letter, but now under the carefully written code was a second line of writing. It was different lettering, smaller and fainter, as if the author did not want to damage the letter itself.

 _Dear Sarah,_

 _I have been so far away but soon it will be over. I promise you dear I will see us through. Do not forget that. I love you so much._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Danny_

"You decrypted it?" Daphne asked, her eyes reading and rereading the words over and over again.

"Yeah," Velma said, suddenly shy.

"How did you know?"

"How did I know what?"

"I mean, how did you know that the cipher was?" Daphne laid the paper flat on the table so both of them could see it. "There aren't any repeating letter patterns."

"That in itself was the pattern. That, and the keyword on the inside of the envelope, led me to believe it was a Vigenere cipher. I plugged in a few words and it turned out to be right," Velma stated. Then she frowned, her brow furrowing again. ". It… it has to do with the football player's death, doesn't it?"

Daphne sighed, and then nodded.

"I heard about that on the news. They said he drowned… was that not true?"

"No, that part was true," Daphne sighed. "They… they called it an accident. Because he was found in the part of the river that students will go swimming in. Except that he was found in the middle of October and was wearing a coat and pants. The police called it in accident less than a day after they found him, and it got swept under the rug."

"I see," Velma nodded gravely. "Well I hope you find out what happened to him. And feel free to let me know if you get any more letters like that. I'd be happy to help you out."

Daphne muttered a word of thanks. Velma resumed picking at her sandwich.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"What?" Velma looked up at her.

"Are you free tonight?" Daphne repeated.

"Uh… yes?" Velma sat up a bit straighter. "W-why?"

"Some of us… a couple of us who are looking into this further, we're meeting tonight. 8 pm at 330 Scarborough Ave Apartment 1. You want to come?"

"I, uh… yeah," Velma nodded. "I just… I just have to ask my parents first."

"Alright. Sounds good."

Daphne stood and picked up her tray, but then promptly say down again.

"Um… can I sit here to eat?" Daphne asked, shaking her head ever so slightly.

"I… yes?" Velma answered slowly. "It's almost weird of you to ask now."


	4. Chapter 4

Later that night, Daphne waited anxiously by the door to Fred's apartment. Eight o'clock ticked closer and closer, and yet neither Fred's new friend nor her new friend had shown up. Silently, she cursed herself for not getting the girl's home phone number, or even her name. Just as she was ready to give up and go sit down, there was a knock at the door. Taking a deep breath, she pulled it open.

The girl she had talked to at lunch was waiting on the small porch of Fred's apartment. In one arm, she carried an armful of books, and in the other she supported herself on a wooden crutch with leather straps that ran horizontally over her forearm.

Feeling a weight lift from her chest at the presence of her new friend, Daphen smiled broadly.

"I'm so glad to see you," Daphne said, smiling. The statement brought a smile to Velma's face as well. "Uh, come in, come in."

"Thank you," Velma muttered as Daphne stepped aside. Velma stepped inside, and made her way into the living room off to the right.

"I was worried you weren't going to come," Daphne admitted as she passed by Velma deeper into the living room. "Or you got lost or something."

"Why wouldn't I come?" Velma asked. She set the pile of books down on a nearby armchair, and then slid a bag of her shoulder.

"I don't know," Daphne shrugged. "I mean, I just didn't know if you were really interested or just being nice."

Just as Velma opened her mouth to answer, Fred walked in the room from a doorway on the other side of the room. His blonde hair was still wet from a shower.

"Oh Freddie. This is my friend..." Daphne trailed off, realizing she still hadn't learned the girl's name.

"Velma. Velma Dinkley," Velma finished, with a slight wave.

"Good to meet you Velma," Fred announced, crossing the room to offer a hand. He paused, as Velma's right hand was still holding the crutch. She shuffled it to her other hand and shook his.

"Feel free to make yourself at home. We're expecting, uh, two more. They should be here any second," Fred said, with a smile. "Daph, could you help me in the kitchen for a sec?"

Daphne nodded and followed him into the kitchen. He turned and dropped his voice.

"Who is she?"

"She's my friend," Daphne explained, crossing her arms. "You get to bring your friend, I get to bring mine. It's only fair."

"But... she's not going to get us into trouble is she?"

"No," Daphne waved it away. "No, no. I thought she could be helpful. She was the one who decrypted that letter we found. I thought maybe she could help us figure some more stuff out. Especially if your friend brings those documents."

"So..." Fred took a deep breath. "You trust her?"

Daphne considered for a moment, and then nodded.

"Well if you trust her, I trust her," Fred concluded. There was the sound of more knocking, and Fred led the pair back into the living room.

The tall lanky kid from the sit-in was waiting on the porch. Fred looked around for a second, trying to see the other person the kid was to have brought. But instead he just saw a...

"A Great Dane?" Fred asked in shock. "I... I thought you said you were bringing your friend Scooby-Doo?"

"Like dude this _is_ Scooby-Doo! He's my best pal in the world," Shaggy announced.

"Rah, rah," the dog agreed.

Fred stared.

"Did he just... talk?"

"Oh, like yeah. He does that," Shaggy nodded. "So can we come in?"

Fred, still shocked, stepped back. The dog bounded in and jumped up on Fred, licking his face excitedly.

"Come on Scoob," Shaggy chuckled.

Scooby tilted his head, then gave Fred one more lick, before jumping down. He then turned to Daphne and repeated himself until Shaggy called him off. Velma had remained seated during it all, and Scooby appraoched her too, but, sensing her nervousness, allowed her to just scratch his ears instead.

"Alright. So if everyone is here, I think we can begin," Fred announced. "Just for the sake of, uh, you know introductions... I'm Fred."

"Daphne."

"Shaggy."

"Velma."

"And Rooby Doo!"

Daphne and Velma both laughed along with the guys at the dog's comment, but exchanged brow- raising glances nevertheless.

"Let's get down to business," Fred said, clapping his hands together. He took a seat next to Daphne on the couch. Shaggy sat in in armchair opposite Velma, and Scooby laid down at his feet. "Daph, will you please fill everyone in."

"Certainly. Alright, so the focus of our meeting is on the murder of Daniel 'Danny' Snyder. Twenty-one years old. Found at 9:24 pm on Sunday October 12th by Officer Dan Toole of the Coolsville Police Department," Daphne picked up a black and white photo and passed it to Velma. "He was found at the basin of the Coolsville River. He was wearing a University of Coolsville sweatshirt, a brown winter coat, and gray slacks. No shoes, no gloves, no hat, no scarf."

Velma passed the photo back to Daphne, who passed it to Fred, who passed it to Shaggy. Velma noticed the slightest of grimaces pass over his face as he looked at the photograph. Daphne reached into her bag and pulled out a map. She unfurled it and laid it flat on the coffee table in front of them.

"This x represents the spot where he was found."

"Where was he last seen?" Velma asked, leaning forward to view the map better.

"That we don't know," Daphne said. She pulled out her _Public Speaing_ textbook and poured the papers inside onto the map. She picked up a piece of notebook paper and unfolded it. "We have confirmation that he was at Gregor's Restaurant in the early afternoon but only spotty testimony after that."

"Like, what did the coroner's report say?" Shaggy asked, averting his eyes from the additional photos and newspaper clippings Daphne had pulled out.

"They said his lips were blue from low oxygen and because he was found in water cause of death was determined to be drowning. However, additional observation also noted that there was no water found in the lungs."

"No water in the lungs does not necessarily mean they didn't drown," Fred added in response to the concerned looks from Shaggy and Velma. "Sometimes the larynx spasms and water can't get in, so they drown but there's no water in the lungs."

"The police then said that the death was an accident less than 24 hours after they pulled him out of the water," Daphne continued. "Parents barely had a chance to come claim him."

"So that implies that someone wanted to cover it up so they wouldn't look into the death further," Velma concluded. Fred and Daphne nodded.

"Who are the suspects?"

"There's several. Seventeen members of the football team, three coaches, three administrators, and the ten people who said they might have seen him the day he died," Fred listed.

"That's a lot of suspects," Velma stated. "Aren't you supposed to narrow it down?"

"We tried. But no one will talk to us about it, so we had to keep the list broad," Daphne said. "That's what we were hoping you guys could help us with. We've got a list of the clues and connections we've found. Maybe you guys could see something we haven't seen."

Daphne handed out typed lists of the clues, each with their own number and letter, that connected to labels Daphne had applied to the papers and cuttings spread out on the table. Velma pulled a handful of pencils out of her bag and passed them down to the others.

The team sat, jotting notes on their respective papers. Occasionally, one would lean in towards the table and pick something up, or adjust their view.

Velma picked up one labeled C5. On the paper, C5 was described as "a plain piece of paper in an envelope left at the resturant by the victim." She carefully lifted the paper out of the envelope and unfolded it.

The paper was wrinkled, like it had gotten wet, but the envelope was not. This struck Velma as odd. How could the letter have gotten wet, but the envelope stay dry? She ran her fingers over the letter. She couldn't feel any rips, holes, or ridges that implied writing that had been erased.

Then she smelled it.

She sniffed again. Lifting the paper up to her face, she smelled the letter. Lemons.

"Does anyone have a lighter?"

Everyone else looked up.

"Why do you need a lighter?" Fred asked, confused.

"Well, probably not a lighter. A hairdryer, or an iron. Something that makes heat."

"Why? What did you find?" Daphne asked, scooting closer down the couch to observe the letter as Fred got up to get an iron.

Velma breathed hot air over the letter. Faint letters showed up on the top left hand corner.

"Invisible ink," Velma stated. "Lemon juice."

Fred returned a moment later with an iron. He plugged it in to an outlet on a close wall. Velma handed over the letter. They waited quietly for a moment as the iron heated up. When the small light on top lit up, Fred gently pressed the iron over the letter. They all waited with bated breath as he lifted up the iron.

 _Dear Danny,_

 _I'm sorry to have to write you like this. You know I was never as good with codes as you, and they read all our mail. I don't want them to think I'm a spy! I had to convince them that the last letter from you was written in Greek. They bought it, but I still had to sneak this into a parcel to get it to you safely. Soon we won't need letters. Soon we will be together always. I cannot way until that day._

 _Until we meet again,_

 _Sarah_

"It's a letter. A response to the other one," Daphne murmured. She pulled out the envelope Velma had returned to her earlier.

"Like, who is Sarah?" Shaggy asked.

"Don't know," Fred said. "Something to look into. Unlikely that she's a student here, but we should look into it."

"Clearly they tried to hide their romance," Daphne stated. "Given the circumstances, that's suspicious. And Shaggy, you knew him best, so if you don't know who Sarah is, then we've got a lot to look into."

"I'll try to figure out if it's anyone we knew in high school," Shaggy asked. "And like, since we're on the subject, I think it's a good time to talk about yesterday."

Scooby plunged his nose into a Shaggy's backpack. There was the sound of sniffing, before Scooby pulled out a folder with his mouth. Shaggy took it from him.

"So these are what my friend Dave got from the office yesterday," he said, passing the folder around. "He didn't have time to find anything specific, but he managed to grab this."

Fred opened the folder and pulled out a stack of papers. He pulled a small pile off the top and passed it down.

"I, like, haven't had the chance to read through them yet."

Silence fell as Fred, Daphne, and Velma flipped through pages from the folder.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Velma asked as she scanned pages.

"Well, like, I saw Danny in September and he said that he had been in talks with some recruiters. Mostly from Cleveland, but also with some teams out in California. He was really excited about it," Shaggy explained. "But then a few weeks later, I heard a few football players talking about him going to Atlanta. When I saw Danny again just before he died, he was still talking about Cleveland."

"I see," Velma nodded.

There was more silence while they flipped through more information.

"I've got nothing that looks like a football contract."

"Me neither."

"Me neither."

Shaggy nodded. Fred collected up the papers and replaced them in the folder. He handed them back to Shaggy, who handed them off to Scooby.

"Sorry, man," Fred said apologetically.

"Like, should we go back? Maybe it's not in his folder but in another?" Shaggy offered.

"We could," Fred suggested. He ran a hand through his hair as he thought. "It's after 9. I bet there's no one there right now. We should go."

Immediately, every other member of the group expressed protest.

"Like dude I've got math homework..."

"I need to pick a subject for my paper..."

"My parents are expecting me home by 10..."

"Come on, gang," Fred said, jumping to his feet. "We've got a lead. Two leads. We've got to go."

"You know what, Fred," Daphne started. She stood and placed a hand on his arm. "This was a good start. Maybe we should stop here. For tonight at least. Then we could come back together tomorrow, and pick up from there."

"I can't do tomorrow," Fred muttered. "Friday nights are always longer practices and then meetings. And the game is all day Saturday."

"Well, we'll get together then. Go over a couple things, and come back together on Saturday night then," Daphne concluded. "That good with you guys?"

Velma and Shaggy both nodded. Scooby, who had so far hung out quietly under Shaggy's chair, perked up.

"Okay. Then we'll break for the night, maybe meet tomorrow, and definitely come back together on Saturday."

There was a mutter of agreement, and shuffling as they put the clues back on the table and pulled their stuff together. Daphne laid a reassuring hand on Fred's back.

"Like, by the way, if we ever need to go anywhere together, I can bring over my van. We'll all fit inside. It's like huge man."

"Groovy. Good to know," Fred said, though his tone did not imply it was groovy at all. Daphne slipped an arm around his waist, and squeezed him close to her. He cracked the smallest hint of a smile.

"I just worry that we're going to risk losing evidence if we don't do something tonight," Fred muttered as he and Daphne waved at their new friends rereating backs.

"I think we'll be fine," Daphne hugged him again. "Something tells me we're going to do good things together. Don't you worry."


	5. Chapter 5

"And finally can anyone tell me if this statement on number four is true or false?"

Velma raised her hand. The professor's eyes scanned the room. For a millisecond, they fell on her, and she readied herself to answer. But then they kept scanning.

"No one?" the professor asked incredulously. His eyes fell on Shaggy. "How about you Mr. Rogers? Are you in the neighborhood?"

Shaggy jerked out of his daydream.

"What?"

"It's the children's program. I was trying to get your attenton," the professor pointed to the statement towards the bottom f teh board. "Can you tell me if statement four is true or false?"

Shaggy stared at the board, willing his mind to focus on the writing. He bit his lip, and tried squinting, if only to buy himself another second or two. But it did nothing for the writing on the board, which to him were little more than squiggles.

"It's false," a voice whispered from behind him.

"It's false," he repeated louder.

"Can you tell me why?" the professor asked. Shaggy bit his lip again.

"Uh..."

"Because x can only be positive," the voice whispered again.

"Because x can only be positive," Shaggy said louder. The professor nodded.

"Very well."

The professor carried on. Shaggy turned around to thank whoever had been passing him answers.

"Like hey," Shaggy said quietly when he realized it was Velma. She smiled slightly and gave him a small wave.

"Like I didn't know you were in this class," Shaggy said as they exited the class together when the lecture was over. Out in the hallway, they stopped off the the side not far from the door.

"Yeah. I've sat behind you all quarter. I raise my hand to answwer everyday but he never seems to notice me. I hope he's at least marking me down for attendance," Velma joked, but then her face grew serious. "I should probably make sure he's marking me down for attendance."

"What class do you have next?" Shaggy asked, leaning against the wall.

"English," Velma answered.

"Ah. Well,"Shaggy rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Maybe sometime... uh, you're pretty good at the math stuff, right?"

"I'm...okay," Velma lied, very aware of the five perfect quizzes in her bag.

"Well, maybe sometime, do you think we could study together?" Shaggy mumbled. "Like, sometimes I don't quite understand what's going on, and maybe you could help me out?"

"Uh, yeah. Definitely," Velma nodded. She checked her watch. "I've got to go to class."

"Ah right. Uh, like I'll see you later?"

"Oh, uh...yes. Later," Velma confirmed.

"Groovy. Like, later."

Velma waved. Shaggy smiled back, and turned to leave. Velma paused for a moment, thinking through the path to her next class when the math professor walked out of the room in front of her.

"Oh, uh, sir? Can I talk to you?"

* * *

Daphne wandered back and forth through the history section of the library. She had been given the ability to write an essay on any event in British history between 1700 and 1750. In Daphne's opinion, that was too broad of a spectrum. It wasn't quite late enough for the American Revolution, or really anything worth writing about.

"Why couldn't it have been _French_ history?" she muttered to herself. She ran a finger down the shelf, pausing every so often to pull a book off to obersve it better.

"Look, man, you just need to stop worrying about it," a man's voice from the other side of the shelf said.

"Dude, I can't. I keep thinking about it. It's...ugh, it just keeps bothering me," another man replied. His voice dropped even lower than it already was. "We need to come clean, man. We gotta tell someone."

"No," the first man snapped. "You gotta keep it quiet. Just a little bit longer at least."

"Man, I can't wait that long," the second man insisted.

Daphne snuck down the shelf to the end. She peered around the end of the shelf.

Two young men, both wearing blue and white letterman jackets. They had crew cuts, and were both roughly the size of Fred- about 6'1 and 200 pounds.

"No one even cares about it anymore. You gotta chill out, man," the first man said.

He put a hand on the other guy's shoulder and leaned in close. Daphne had to strain to hear.

"Just keep his stuff out of sight and you won't think about it. Hide it under your bed or shove it in the closet. Okay? Dude, you gotta chill out or your gonna get us in trouble."

Daphne turned back, worried her rapidly beating heart was going to give her away. She closed her eyes and listened harder to the conversation.

"Wouldn't want it that way," the second guy said. "Can we at least do something to honor him?"

"Would that make you feel better?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it would," the second guy nodded. "How about something at the field?"

"You think captain Jones would let us do that?" the first guy said frustrated. A chill went down Daphne's spine as she realized they were talking about Fred. "He wouldn't let us close."

"How about Casem Hall then?" the second guy offered. "He always liked it there. The arhcitecture and everything."

"Fine. We'll arrange a vigil or something. It's kind of late, but we'll make it happen. Okay? Will that put your mind at ease?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll start figuring stuff out. How about tomorrow after the game?" the second man said.

"The team's going to be exhausted. How about Sunday?" the first man suggested.

"Cool. Sunday."

Daphne waited. They didn't continue talking. After a moment, he heard footsteps as they walked away. Slowly, she peered around the shelf again. They were gone.

On the other side of the library, Velma approached the circulation desk.

"Hello. Uh, I'm here to inquire about the student librarian position?" she asked quietly to the woman sitting behind the desk.

"Are you in the Library Science program?" the librarian asked, pulling out a list from a nearby folder.

"Yes, ma'am. My name is Velma Dinkley."

The librarian ran a finger down the list until she found the name.

"Wonderful," she marked a star next to the name. "All we need is the name of a professor we can contact for a reference."

"Oh. Uh... Dr. Peter Davidson," Velma offered.

"Great. We'll just get in contact. All I need is your home phone number and..." the librarian trailed off as she looked Velma up and down. She looked up at Velma and smiled. "Give me one moment."

She rolled her chair backwards and stopped next to another librarian. They discussed something in hushed voices for a moment, and then the librarian came back over.

"Actually, we're not sure you're a suitable applicant. We appreciate your interest, but it... it's just not right for you."

"But, but," Velma stammered. "I have the entire Dewey decimal system memorized. I come highly recommended from Dr. Davidson, or any of my professors. All of them. Ask any of them."

"I'm sure," the librarian smiled again. "I'm sorry."

Velma stared at her for a moment, before turning and making her way to an empty seat at one of the long tables at the other end of the hall.

She dropped her bag on the ground next to an open chair, and sat down. She leaned her crutch up against the table, removed her glasses, and put her head down. She just sat there for a moment, her chest heaving, willing herself not to cry. Not here. Not now.

 _Slam_.

Velma's chair was pushed forward into the table. Rubbing her sternum where it hit the table, she turned. A young guy pushing a book cart had slammed right into her chair.

"Hey!"

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, kneeling down to pick up fallen books. "I didn't see you there."

He finished picking up the books and stood back up. He muttered another apology and pushed the cart forward.

Velma sighed deeply. Pain prickled through her leg. She went to pull up her socks, only to remember she was wearing tights.

"Velma!"

Velma jumped in her chair as Daphne slid into the chair next to her.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," Daphne said quietly. "I've got loads to tell you about this conversation I just heard... are... are you okay?"

"What?" Velma asked. She realized there were tears rolling down her face. She quickly wiped them off on the sleeve of her dress. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Uh, what-what conversation?"

"Uh, I'll tell you later tonight," Daphne said slowly. "You... are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"You know what," Daphne said, placing a hand on Velma's shoulder. "Let's go get a cup of coffee. There's a neat little cafe nearby. Let's go."

Velma checked her watch.

"I can't. I have class in half an hour."

"Forget class. Coffee is more important."

* * *

"And they didn't even interview me," Velma said.

Her glasses and untouched cup of coffee set on the table in front of her. Her hands ran up and down her face. Finally she put her chin in her hand, put her glasses back on, and took a sip of her coffee.

"They just looked at me and decided I wasn't right for it. They... they don't even know me."

"I know what you mean," Daphne said, sipping her own coffee.

Velma stared out the window.

"Am I invisible?"

"What?"

"Am I invisible?" she repeated.

"No of course you're not invisible," Daphne said. "I mean... you're sitting right in front of me. I can see you."

"But you didn't see me the other day," Velma pointed out. "And my professor doesn't see me in class and people run into me all the time. I just feel... invisible. Which... which I can't even understand because I feel like I'm being watched all the time. People look at me. They stare. And yet I still feel like they're just seeing right through me. How can I be notiecd and yet invisible at the same time?"

Daphne gave her a sympathetic look. They sipped their coffees in silence for a moment. Then a thought came to Daphne.

"Of course," she said under her breath.

"Of course what?"

"Being noticed and still being invisible. That's it. That's how it fits.

"How what fits?" Velma crossed her arms. "Are you even listening to me?

"What? Oh, yes, yes I am and I don't want to distract from what you're saying because it's important and I'm here for you. I just... I just realized how Danny Snyder made it all the way across campus the day he died without being properly noticed."

Daphne waited for Velma to indicate permission to go on. Velma sighed, and waved her on.

"We have proof that Danny was last seen 'officially' at Gregor's Restaurant around 3 pm because we have a receipt and the bartender's statement. But several other people claim to have seen him last at several different places around campus before he was found. But no one was quite sure that it was him, so not one of them is considered to be the last person who saw him," Daphne explained in a low voice. "But he was a popular guy. People knew who he was and what he looked like. So how could he have walked through the entire campus and be noticed but still not be recognized."

Velma thought for a moment.

"The scarf, hat, and gloves," she stated. "If he wasn't wearing his letterman jacket and he was bundled up in winter wear, no one would have known it was him unless they saw him closely. Which no one did."

"Exactly," Daphne smiled. "I think we need to revisit those witnesses, wouldn't you agree?"

Velma nodded. She looked out the window again. The sun was out and the weather appeared to be beautiful, but once outside, the wind was biting. She thought back to the weather on the day of Danny Snyder's murder. It had been similarly cold and biting, but the sun hadn't been out.

"Is there anything else you want to talk about?" Daphne offered, pulling Velma back to the present. Velma shook her head, and sipped her coffee again.

"Hey. Like, cool tie-dye tights, man," a hippie kid said to Velma as he passed by their table.

"Tie-dye tights? I'm not wearing... oh no..."

Velma looked down at her legs. Her white tights now had bright red spots down her left leg, spots that coinsided perfectly with the parts of her brace that pinched her the most. She grabbed a few napkins off the table and tried to dab up some of the blood, to no avail.

"See?" Daphne offered hopefully as Velma tried to clean herself up. "You're not invisible."


	6. Chapter 6

Shaggy sat on a bench out in the commons. The sun was bright, but misleading. He crossed his arms tighter against the wind, his eyes scanning the commons as he thought about Danny.

He and Danny had grown up together, just a few blocks from the University of Coolsville. Danny had been with him when he had picked Scooby Doo out back when the dog was just a pup. Danny was a year older than him, and had turned eighteen in '66. Ahead in credits, he graduated high school early when his number had come up. He was shipped out to Vietnam for a year, and came back just in time to turn nineteen. They had both started at the University at the same time, but Danny, being the kind of guy he was, was already set to graduate three years in. Playing professional football had been his current dream, but Shaggy knew it wasn't the end goal. He would have had a degree in business in the spring.

Shaggy's chest clenched at the memory of them setting up a lemonade stand in front of their house back in junior high. The thought of never seeing him again, outside of the pictures of his bloated body Daphne had in her file, was too much for him. It was like his brother died.

Shaggy shook his head, trying to clear the sadness. It was pointless, he knew, but he still tried.

"Hey man," a man's voice called from behind him. Shaggy turned.

A short kid wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket ran up to him from across the commons. He took a seat next to Shaggy on the bench.

"Stan," Shaggy said with a nod at the kid.

"Hey, so I wanted to let you know there's gonna be a party over at Stucky's house tonight. Lisa says she can score us some pretty good hash if you're interested," Stan offered, peering over the top of his sunglasses.

"Nah, man I'm good," Shaggy shook his head. "Besides, I've got like a meeting tonight."

"A meeting? On a Friday night?" Stan asked. "What kind of meeting is that, man?"

"Just a... study group," Shaggy lied. "We've got like a big midterm on Monday that we're studying for."

"Aw. Well, that stinks, man," Stan clapped Shaggy on the shoulder and stood up. "I'll guess I'll see you later then. Maybe at the vigil for Danny this Sunday?"

"Vigil?" Shaggy asked, squinting in the sun as he looked up at Stan.

"Yeah. Like Tony Sanders and Lex Dixon from the football team are holding it. Sunday at Casem Hall."

"Like... cool," Shaggy nodded. "See you around man."

Stan and Shaggy hi-fived, and Stan took off down the sidewalk.

Shaggy watched him go. It wasn't long before Stan had gotten to the next group of students who had hippie leanings to promote the party. As Shaggy stared, he realized there was a gash on the side of Stan's leather jacket.

For a moment, Shaggy wondered if it was something he should look into, but he decided to ignore it. Stan had been wearing that jacket since at least 1963. It would be crazy to think it would still be in great condition after so many years.

Instead, he turned his attention to a group of football players on the other side of the commons. He spotted Tony Sanders, in his letterman jacket, wooing a few freshman girls with his good looks and Midwestern charm.

Shaggy remembered Danny speaking briefly about the pair a long time ago. They were both linebackers, big burly dudes with about as much in brains in their head as compassion in their hearts, which is to say not much. That was what struck Shaggy as the most odd: Tony Sanders and Lex Dixon would be the last people in the school to hold a vigil for someone, even if they were the star quarterback on their team.

Tony ran a hand through his hair so that his muscles bulged under his jacket. Shaggy looked away, as the girls around Tony started giggling.

A vigil, for Danny, held by Tony Sanders and Lex Dixon. It just didn't make any sense.

Shaggy picked at his nails. He wanted a drink, but he couldn't, he just couldn't. Danny had been a teetotaler. The idea of drinking his grief away felt like an insult to Danny's memory.

Danny's memory. The words in his head made him want to scream. How the hell could Danny Snyder, who went to Vietnam and came back in one piece, who could get sacked twenty times every football game and never get hurt, who never drank or did drugs or anything stupid end up dead before him?

It wasn't right. Danny didn't deserve to die. It was wrong. It was…unjust.

Shaggy was going to find out who did it and make them pay. And that, he was certain, is how Danny would have wanted it.

* * *

"So, in conclusion, who can tell me what went wrong here?" a football coach asked as the TV beside him clicked off.

"We let the linebacker in," a player on the bench in front of Fred muttered.

"What was that Rafferty?"

"We let the linebacker in. And he got through the guards and sacked the quarterback," Rafferty answered louder.

"You let him take down the damn quarterback. Now those linebackers from the University of Southern Ohio are going to be looking for those holes and by God they are going to find them. Now Radomski," the coach pointed to a blonde guy next to Fred. "Is gonna be starting at quarterback tomorrow. And I want the rest of you to get your act together. We can't afford to lose this game. So I want everyone to reread their playbooks tonight, get some sleep, and then be here tomorrow at 6am ready to go through this again. You understand?"

There was a murmur of assent.

"I said do you understand?" the coach repeated loudly.

"YES, SIR," a chorus of football players called back.

"That's better. Now go clean up. I'll see all of you in the morning."

At this, most of the players stood from the benches and started shuffling towards the lockers. Voices picked up until there was a good cacophony of chatter from all sides.

Fred squeezed past a group of offensive lineman to get to his locker. He fidgeted with the lock for a moment, then glances over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching before inputting the combination.

He was not going to lie; it did not smell good. Old socks, sweaty undershirts, an extra pair of cleats. The smell was bad enough he worried it would singe the picture of Daphne taped inside the door.

Starting with his jersey, he slowly pulled off his uniform and equipment until only his underclothes remained. He grabbed a couple bottles of soap from the top shelf, and closed the locker door. Waiting right behind it was a big beefy guy with a crew cut.

"Dixon," Fred acknowledged with a nod

"Jones," the guy nodded back. "I wanted to talk to you about Danny Synder."

Fred stiffened.

"What about him?"

"Just that Tony, you know, Tony Sanders? Well he and I wanted to hold a vigil for him. Tomorrow at 7pm at Casem Hall. We were hoping that maybe you could say a few words? You know, as one of the captains and all."

Fred considered him for a moment.

"Yeah, I guess I could do that," Fred said. "I'll be there."

"Cool, man," Lex replied. He clapped Fred on the shoulder, and turned to go to his own locker. Fred watched him for a moment.

"WHO THE HELL DID THIS?" a man shouted angrily from by the coach's office.

All the men in the vicinity turned to the man who yelled.

It was Assistant Coach Paul Waters. He was pointing at a clipboard he held up. On the top page, in bright red letters, was the word "candyass", 60s slang for a wimp.

"WHO DID THIS?" he shouted, his face growing a deeper and deeper shade of red. "TELL ME THIS INSTANT."

The team members averted their gaze. Some picked at their nails, others stared at the floor or the ceiling. Not a sound was heard.

"Y'ALL TELL ME WHO DID THIS RIGHT NOW OR ALL OF YOU ARE GONNA COME IN AT 5 AM TOMORROW TO RUN LAPS."

Two short guys near the showers both raised their hands, their eyes resolutely locked on the floors.

"Radomski, Bellamy, consider your asses benched until further notice. Jones," the coach barked. "You're starting quarterback tomorrow."

An ice cube slid into Fred's stomach as he nodded.

"That's it," the coach said, anger still present in his voice. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The coach huffed loudly, and disappeared back into the office. His door slammed shut, and slowly conversation in the locker room resumed. Within a few minutes, it was back to its pre-interruption sound level.

A few guys came up to Fred to congratulate him on the promotion, but the nods, thanks, and grins he gave them were just going through the motions. The icy feeling in his stomach grew with every passing praise or congratulatory pat on the back.

"You ready to fill Snyder's shoes?" one passing teammate asked jovially.

iHard to fill if we can't even find them./i


	7. Chapter 7

"But it would be so much easier if you just stayed the night," Daphne insisted as Velma put her key into the door and turned it.

"And I'm telling you there's no use," Velma replied as she stepped into the house. "So just forget it okay?"

Daphne groaned, but dropped the conversation nonetheless.

"I just need to go change my tights. It shouldn't take long," Velma whispered. "Just stay in here and I'll be right back. Whatever you do, don't talk to my-"

"Velma is that you?" a female voice called from the next room.

"...mother."

Velma made a face, which only Daphne could see as Velma's back was to the woman who entered the room. The woman, so clearly Velma's mother, had on a polka dot black and white dress and cat eye glasses.

"And who's this?" the woman said brightly as she approached the two girls.

"Ma, this is Daphne Blake. Daphne, this is my mother."

"Nice to meet you Daphne. I'm Susie, Susie Dinkley. Velma, I didn't realize you had a new friend," the woman said brightly. Then she seemed to catch herself. "Over. A new friend over."

"We're just stopping by," Velma reassured (more to herself than anyone else). "We aren't staying long. Just long enough for me to change."

"Then we're going to my house," Daphne said with a smile. "For a, uh, a study group."

"On a Friday night?" Susie asked, confused.

"Yes ma'am," Daphne answered. "We have to study tonight, so tomorrow we can go to the game."

"What game?" Velma asked, taken aback. Daphne raised her eyebrows at her.

"You know. The football game."

"Oh yes right," Velma nodded, her brow still furrowed. "The... football game."

"Oh, well... are you eating dinner here? It's nearly five-thirty. Dinner is almost ready, if you'd like to..."

"Unfortunately we can't," Velma stated. "The meeting starts at six and we have to have time to go over there."

"Alright," Susie said sadly. "Well, at least let me put together some snacks for you to take."

Susie smiled once again and left for the kitchen. Velma shook her head, and then left for her room, which was right down the hall.

Daphne used their absence to get a good look around the Dinkley's living room. The couches and armchairs were neatly covered in plastic, all facing a television with long antennas. Built-in bookshelves lined either side of a brick fireplace on the side far from the front door. Daphne stepped closer to look at the pictures.

Not a single one featured Velma past the age of five. There were several baby pictures, a few wedding photos, and one class portrait on the mantle, but nothing else. Daphne had the strange feeling as if the girl she had been spending time with over the past few days was a ghost of someone who had died as a child. Not wanting to think too much about this, she turned her sights on the class portait.

The sign in the center of the picture read Coolsville _Elementary School, Mrs. Wilkinson,Kindergarten 1955-1956_. It was placed in front of a teacher with curled hair and an austere expression. All around her were five and six year old kids, all with dour faces. On the end of the front row on the right was a very young Dinkley, her glasses almost identical to the ones she wore now. And three seats to her left, the only child in the class who was not white, was Daphne Blake herself.

Daphne heard movement behind her, and turned, photo still in hand to see the present day version of Velma Dinkley, seated on one of the plastic armchairs. Her tights had been replaced with knee high orange socks, and she was in the process of securing the straps of her brace back on.

"We were in the same Kindergarten class," Daphne said, holding up the photo.

"We were?" Velma asked as she bent down to tie her shoe.

"Yeah. That's you," Daphne pointed at the picture. "And then that's me."

"Huh. How about that," Velma said, impressed, as she crossed the room to look at the picture with Daphne.

"I...huh. You know I remember you in Kindergarten, but I don't remember you at all in first grade. Or, actually, any grade beyond that. I think I always assumed you moved, but, well, clearly you didn't since we're four blocks from the school."

"No, I didn't move," Velma shook her head. "Just got sick."

Daphne watched her friend, waiting to see if she'd continue or not. Velma seemed very interested in her shoes. Finally, Velma sighed.

"I got sick in June, and was in the hospital for... I think about four months. I don't remember much about it other than I read a lot. I could read when I went into Kindergarten, and, well there wasn't much else to do when you had to lay in bed for so much time. So I just read. I read every book in the hospital. And when I finished them, I'd just read them all over again. I think I read them all a total of three times. And, oh, there was a kid named Ricky. He was ten, and right before he got sick, he had been given a spy kit, with a secret decoder ring, and he had learned how to write in a few different codes, so he taught some of us how to do it. That's where I found an interest in deciphering codes," Velma said. Then the faint smile of reminiscing slid from her face. "Ricky was the only kid I knew who got sicker the longer he was there. He died right before I left, ten days before his eleventh birthday."

"But I mean, you survived. You you know, were... why didn't you come back to school?"

"We tried. I...tried. But, I wasn't there three days after school resumed after Christmas before the Parent Teacher Association insisted that I leave. They didn't want their kids in the same classroom as someone who had had polio. It didn't matter that I wasn't contagious. It didn't matter that all their kids were vaccinated by then. It didn't matter. That... that wasn't the point," Velma sighed. "So I was homeschooled. Finished all my credits and studying by age 16. Would have come to college then, but... Let's just say it was a battle to get my parents to allow me to cross the street on my own, let alone cross town to attend class every day."

Then she shook her head and looked up at Daphne, trying to force a smile.

"Anyways, you ready to go?"

Daphne opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment Susie Dinkley returned, carrying a paper shopping bag. She handed it to Daphne.

"That should be enough to serve your group," she turned to Velma. "Just make sure you bring my Tupperware back."

Velma nodded and turned for the door. Daphne considered for a moment.

"Mrs. Dinkley, some of my friends and I are having a... slumber party after the game tomorrow night. I want her to come, but she felt it was uneasonable to ask you."

"Well... Mr. Dinkley aren't anything if we aren't reasonable," Susie Dinkley said, standing a little straighter. "That's perfectly alright. We just need to know where it will be and who the chaperones are."

"There won't be any chaperones, ma'am, because we're all adults. And it'll be co-ed, but if that's a dealbreaker, then we'll sleep in separate rooms," Daphne informed her.

Susie looked from Daphne to Velma and then back to Daphne. Her mouth was slightly open, but she didn't seem to be able to say anything. She just kept looking from one to the other and back again.

"Well... uh... well, I," she exhaled deeply. "I don't... I mean... well..."

"I told you it was worthless," Velma muttered, leaning in towards Daphne. "We've gotta go or we'll be late."

"But..." Daphne looked at Susie Dinkley, who seemed trapped in a cycle of consideration.

"It's fine," Velma whispered,before raising her voice to address her mother. "I'll be back by curfew. 10pm preferred, no later than 10:30."

Velma turned to the door again, but this time she was followed by Daphne. Daphne took one last look back at Susie, and then to Velma.

She had wondered why Velma had warned her against talking to her mother, when nothing seemed particuarly troubling about her. It struck her that maybe it had not been for Velma or Daphne's sake, but for Susie's.

* * *

Shaggy leaned against his van, absently petting Scooby as he waited for Daphne to return to her apartment.

He was still itching for a drink, or at the very least a cigarette. It was even harder now, as on the drive over he had remembered the bottle of whiskey in the back seat and the pack of Marlboros in the cupholder. But as much as his brain seemed to scream for them, the pain in chest screamed louder.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Daphne apologized as she led the three up the small stoop up to a porch. "We had to stop by Velma's house. But on the bright side, her mom gave us snacks."

"Racks?" Scooby said excitedly, his tail whipping back and forth so hard he nearly knocked Shaggy over.

"I'm sure there's plenty for you," Daphne said with a smile as she pushed the door open. The trio, and the dog, followed her lead into the apartment.

Her's was very similar to Fred's. A short hallway led straight from the door to the kitchen, with a living room off to the right. A stairway next to the hall led to what Velma assumed were bedrooms.

"Okay," Daphne said as she set the carrying the bag down on the counter in the kitchen and began unpacking it. "I say we get something to eat, and then review our notes from yesterday as well as anything new we've learned since. I know I've got some new stuff to share."

Daphne pulled Tupperware after Tupperware of food out of the bag.

"Good Lord Velma how much did your mother give us?" Daphne asked as she pulled the seventh and final container from the bag.

"Probably too much," Velma admitted. "She's never been very good at estimating how much food to give people. She once was convinced one ten pound turkey would not be enough to feed eight people for Thanksgiving. We had to stage a coup in order to prevent her from buying another one."

"Rurkey, mm-mmm," Scooby said, he licked his lips. Daphne tossed him a piece of meat from one of the nearby containers. He caught it in his mouth.

"Can we sit in here instead of out there?" Velma asked as she inched closer to the kitchen table. "It would be easier to compare notes from here than in the living room."

"Sure," Shaggy shrugged. He looked to Daphne, who shrugged too.

Velma pulled out the chair closest to the wall, and sat down. The groan she let out when the weight shifted off her leg was unmistakable to both the other people in the room.

"Here," Daphne handed her containers to put on the table.

"Like, can I get your files while you do that?" Shaggy offered to Daphne as she handed Velma several more containers.

"Uh, sure. They're on the table in the living room."

Shaggy crossed the kitchen to grab the file. Daphne handed Velma the last container, and then grabbed a few plates out of the cabinet above the counter, which she also passed to Velma.

"So first, I heard an interesting conversation at the library earlier," Daphne began. "Two guys, football players, were there behind the shelves talking about something. One of them kept talking about keeping quiet, and the other guy said he couldn't. Then the first guy told him to hide stuff to make him feel better. The other guy said something about organizing something... uh... jeepers, well I can't remember now."

"Like, a vigil?" Shaggy asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Daphne nodded vigorously. "A vigil."

"Tony Sanders and Lex Dixon," Shaggy stated, sitting back in his chair.

"That's who it was?" Daphne asked.

She looked around for a moment, looking for something to write with. Velma, noticing this, pulled a pen out of her pocket and handed it over. Daphne scribbled the names on a sheet of paper in her folder.

"A friend I saw at the commons today told me about it. Said it was gonna be at Casem Hall. Danny always did like Casem Hall. He was a big fan of late Jacobean architecture," Shaggy added wistfully.

Then, out of nowehere, he slammed a fist on the table. All the notes, clues, and containers jumped, as well as Daphne and Velma.

"Those little shits," Shaggy spat. "They probably took him out and stole his stuff. Now they feel bad about it so they want to hold a damn pity party."

Daphne genly laid a reassuring hand on Shaggy's arm. His chest was heaving, but she wasn't sure if he was going to scream or cry. Neither was he.

"Well, if they're trying to cover up their tracks, going to that vigil is the best place to confront them," Daphne said slowly, her hand still on Shaggy's arm. "If they're put on the spot, they might be more honest with us. We just have to put together enough pieces of evidence in order to tie them to the murder."

"If they have Danny's stuff, as in, the stuff that wasn't found with the body, isn't that...isn't that evidence enough?" Velma asked slowly.

"Not necessarily," Daphne shook her head. "If the stuff was...I don't know, given away or even if it was stolen, that doesn't exactly place them at the murder. It's suspicious, but circumstantial at best. We have to find something more concrete, and that starts with the last person that saw him alive."

"Or people," Shaggy said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, or people," Daphne agreed, nodding.

"Who all saw him as he walked across campus?" Velma asked, trying to steey the conversation in a different direction.

"Well, there were ten people who report seeing him throughout the time he left Gregor's Restaurant at 3pm and when he was pulled out of the water around 9:30. Those reported to have seen him were Dana Applebee at 3:30pm, Jace Kinser and Michael O'Brien aroun 4:10pm, the Callum sisters Ivy, Opal, and Janet around 4:35pm, Justin Vincent at 5:25pm, Kevin Flaherty at 7:05pm, Wanda Johnson at 7:30pm, and Kim Paulson at 7:45pm."

"So there was a gap between Justin and Kevin of approximately one hour and a half," Velma noted as she wrote down the names and times Daphne listed. "And the a gap between the last person to think they saw him, which was Kim at 7:45 and the time that he was found."

"Correct. I've already tried talking to Kim. She said she was passing by on her way home from the library and saw a big guy that she thought looked like Danny coming out of the student union. And both Wanda and Kevin saw him in the student union."

"Well, if he was inside, like wouldn't he have taken off the winter coat and stuff?" Shaggy offered. "These people all i think/i they saw Danny. If he was inside, they'd have seen his face, wouldn't they?"

"That's a good point," Daphne said, jotting down the observation. "Perhaps that's something we should ask tomorrow at the game."

"The game?" Velma's brow furrowed. "Like, the football game? I thought that was just something you said to lie to my mother."

"No. I'm serious abotu going. It's a great chance to interrogate witnesses without people questioning why you're talking to people who aren't normally in your circle. Everyone are friends at football games," Daphne explained. "We just need to work out who is worth approaching."

"Well, like I can tell you now that the Callum sisters were probably high as kites. so they aren't very realiable witnesses," Shaggy said. "Like, they appear all goody two-shoes, but like they like their pot. And, like Justin Vincent too. We've run into each other at like more than one party."

"Noted. That leaves Dana, Jace, Michael, and Kevin. They'll probably all be in the student section tommorow at the game. I think it would be worthwhile to find them," Daphne said. Then she clapped a hand to her forehead. "How could I be so stupid? I don't have tickets."

"Like, I've gotcha covered," Shaggy assured her. "Like let me take care of that."

"So we're actually doing this?" Velma bit her lip. "We're actually going to interrogate people? At the football game?"

"Yep," Daphne nodded. "It's simple. The star quarterback on campus dies. Where better place to find who killed him then at a football game?"


	8. Chapter 8

"Shaggy, these seats are incredible." Daphne said, impressed, as she, Shaggy, Velma and Scooby-Doo as they climbed a small set of stairs and took their seats in the first row up, right on the 50 yard line. "How did you afford them?"

"Well, like, they're Danny's parent's tickets. One for each of them and one for his little brother. They didn't really want to come to any games, so like they gave them to me."

Velma and Daphne nodded solemnly. Scooby laid down in front of them, causing many fans passing by to step over him, or squeeze up against the fence to get by. Shaggy, noticing this, called him over to the bench, scratching his ears to stop him from interrupting traffic.

Out on the field, both teams were warming up. The Coolsville Comets had on white jerseys, the numbers yellow with a bright blue outline. The opposing team, the Southern Ohio Generals, wore navy jerseys with solid maroon numbers.

"Like, what's Fred's number?"Shaggy asked, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he scanned the mass of players.

"48. He's probably on the side passing, or maybe running drills with the defense. It's not likely he'll get any playing time. He's sort of a jack-of-all trades when it comes to skills. He's pretty good at a bunch of stuff, but doesn't really excel at anything," Daphne said, doing the same thing.

"He's over there," Velma pointed towards a group of Coolsville players running offensive drills.

"That... that can't be right," Daphne said, standing to get a better view. "That's the quarterback's warm-up. He's not... oh, he can't be."

Daphne sat back down and sighed.

"Well, we're going to lose."

"Like, don't say that, Daph," Shaggy patted her on the back. "You don't know that."

"If Fred is playing quarterback, we're going to lose," she frowned. "Too bad."

"And why are they throwing it? I thought this was football." Velma asked as she observed the players.

"It is football," Daphne narrowed her eyes. "You have been to a football game before, right?"

" I thought I made it very clear that I've never done anything before, so will you please not ask that," Velma said with a frown. "But I thought football was the one where they kicked the ball. You know, foot and ball. Football?"

"Do you mean soccer?" Daphne asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Wait..." Velma considered for a moment. "Soccer and football aren't the same thing?"

"Oh hunny," Daphne sighed. "Okay. There's two sides, offense and defense. Each side has..."

As Daphne launched into a football lesson for Velma, Shaggy observed the student around them.

It was definitely the best attended football game Shaggy had been to. Over five thousand students, parents, and fans filled almost every inch of the stadium. Most were decked out in the blue and yellow of the Coolsville Comets, though a small group on the far side of the field wore the colors of Southern Ohio.

"Hey, man. We missed you last night," a familiar voice said.

Shaggy sighed through his nose as Stan slid onto the bench next him. Scooby let out a low growl, but Shaggy laid a hand on his head to stop him.

"Like, what do you want, Stan?"

"I just came to tell you we missed you at the party," Stan said, taken aback at Shaggy's rude greeting. "It was fun, but like it would have been better with you there, you know?"

"Thanks, but like, can we talk later? Because like I'm here with my friends."

Stan gave Daphne and Velma, who had stopped talking about football upon Stan's arrival, a once over.

"Who are they?" Stan asked with a nod in the girl's direction.

"Like, they're my friends, man," Shaggy said defensively. "Lay off."

"Don't get so angry, man. I was just asking. I thought _we_ were your friends, you know," Stan asked, rising to his feet.

"I can have more friends than just you guys, Stan," Shaggy said angrily, also getting to his feet.

For a second Shaggy and Stan just stood there, Shaggy trying his best to intimidate him with his height. In the end, Stan just shrugged.

"Whatever, man. If you wanna hang with us later, we'll be at Wendell's. Later."

Stan turned his back to Shaggy and started climbing his way up the stands. Daphne put a hand on Shaggy's arm and Shaggy sat down, his face still contorted with anger.

"Who is he?" Velma asked quietly as Shaggy let out a deep breath.

"Stan. He's like the leader of a group of kids I used to run with, but like all they care about is drinking, smoking, and trippin', man. And like it just feels like it's a way to distract yourself, and like I don't care that they do it. But like, right now I'd be trying to distract myself from Danny's death, and like... like Danny wasn't in to that. It just... like it just doesn't feel right."

Daphne and Velma nodded solemnly. Daphne turned to Velma.

"As you say you've never done anything before, o I can safely assume you've never tripped before?"

"Oh I've tripped," Velma stated, nodding. Daphne gave her a look. "I mean, not on acid, but on many other things. Most recently, those stairs we took up here."

Daphne rolled her eyes.

"You think you're very clever, don't you?"

"I am very clever."

There was a loud _boom_ , which made them all jump. Everyone started looking around to see what the noise was only to discover that the field had cleared of players. There was the sound of a brass fanfare, and the Coolsville Marching Comets took the field.

"Will you please rise for the playing of our national anthem, accompanied by the University of Coolsville Marching Comets," an announcer boomed over the loud speaker. The crowd rose accordingly and sang, followed by the alma mater _Praise to our Hallowed Halls._

 _Oh come and raise your voices loud_

 _To an alma mater strong and proud_

 _With joyfulness we long to sing_

 _And memories we long to bring_

 _Praise to, praise to_

 _Oh praise to our hallowed halls._

 _Praise to, praise to_

 _Oh praise to our hallowed halls._

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the University of Southern Ohio Generals!" the announcer said.

There was a spatter of applause as the navy and maroon clad players ran out on to the field.

"And now, put your hands together for your University of Coolsville Comets!"

A roar erupted from the home stands as the football players came out. Daphne, Velma, and Shaggy clapped along with the rest of the fans. The Comets won the coin toss and chose to receive. The teams took their places, and the Generals kicked off.

"Alright, let's go find our suspects," Daphne said, putting her bag on her shoulder and standing up.

"Wait, what?" Velma said, looking around. "Aren't we going to watch the game?"

"We've gotta go talk to the suspects. That's why we're here," Daphne said, leaning down so only Velma could hear her. "Shaggy, you and Scooby go find Michael and Jace. We'll find Dana and Kevin. Sound good?"

Shaggy shrugged, but stood up. He and Scooby took off down the stairs, heading north towards the main entrance. Velma stretched for a moment and then stood up. She followed Daphne back down the small set of stairs and behind the stands to where groups of students chatted. They wound their way through the sea of blue and yellow, Daphne scanning the crowd.

After a few minutes, she stopped suddenly, nearly causing Velma to walk into her.

"That's Dana Applebee," Daphne pointed at a tall girl near the back fence of the stadium. "Let's go see what she knows."

Daphne took a deep breath and continued forward.

"Dana, Dana Applebee right?" Daphne greeted jovially as she approached Dana.

"Oh, hello," Dana said slowly. "Uh, Daphne, right?"

"Yeah. It's been a while since we worked on that project together. That was... freshman year, yeah?"

"Uh, yeah. How have you...been, I guess?"

"Pretty good," Daphne smiled. "You excited for the game?"

"I would be, if people remembered that it was the rivalry game and actually made a big deal out of it like they're supposed to," Dana rolled her eyes.

"This is a rivalry game?" Velma asked, looking around.

"Yeah. The Southern Ohio Generals have always been our rivals. But since Danny died and we took that week off, we've totally ignored the true importance of the game."

"You... saw Danny the night he died right?" Daphne asked, frowning slightly. Dana's shoulders dropped, her face growing angry.

"Look. I'll tell you what I told the police: I didn't know it was Danny. I told them I _thought_ it was him because it kind of looked like him, like the build was the same. But I didn't _know_ it was him, and I didn't kill him either. Besides, why am I even telling you this? You're not detectives. You have no business asking about that. "

"I'm sorry," Daphne said, her voice growing defensive. "I had just read that you had seen him that day, and when you brought up his death-"

"He died. It was an accident. Don't go butting your nose in where it doesn't belong, okay?"

And with that, she stormed off and disappeared into the crowd. Daphne turned to Velma, her eyebrows raised as far as they'd go.

"Well she's certainly defensive."

"I know this might sound silly, but... would anyone get so riled up about a rivalry that they'd kill someone over it?"

Daphne bit her lip.

"It's possible. I mean, in this case, anything's possible. Are you thinking Dana did it, or someone else? Because she doesn't seem like she'd kill him over that, but she definitely seemed like-"

"No not her. Just... in general," Velma said, playing with the hem of her sweatshirt.

"Well, I'd like to talk to her more, but that clearly isn't going to happen," Daphne kicked at the ground. "I hope Shaggy and Scooby are having better luck."

* * *

They were having better luck than the girls, but not quite the way Daphne would have assumed.

Shaggy shoved hot dog after hot dog into his mouth. Scooby had his face deep in a large order of French fries. Onlookers marveled (or were disgusted by) the show. Shaggy returned to the concession twice before the cashier cut him off.

"Well, like I guess we've got to go talk to Michael now," Shaggy said almost sad. He gave the concession stand one last longing look, and then turned away to scan the crowd.

He had seen Michael O'Brien before. He was nearly as tall as Shaggy was, so he would be easy to spot in the crowd. Shaggy stretched for a moment, rubbed his very-full stomach, and plunged into the crowd. Scooby trotted along happily beside him.

"Uh, Michael?" Shaggy asked, as he came up on Michael from behind.

"Yeah?" Michael turned around. "Hey man! Good to see you, man. It's been too long."

"Uh, yeah, man," Shaggy said , nervously, returning Michael's hug. "How ya been, man?"

"Great, yeah, great. Uh, how you been, man? You were good friends with Danny right?"

"Uh, yeah. It's... it's not been great," Shaggy said, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. "You knew him too right?"

"Yeah, but not as well as you. We haven't talked much since he shipped out back in high school. Same with you, man. But I've been thinking about you, since I heard he died. You know, I saw him that day. Well, I thought it was him, and it turned out it was," Michael nodded solemnly. "Damn shame. He was a good guy. But I saw him around 4:15pm. I know what you're probably thinking, but he died around 9. I couldn't have stopped it."

"Yeah, yeah I know," Shaggy nodded. "Well, I guess I'll catch up with you later then, man."

"Yeah, you too. Hey," Michael clapped Shaggy on the shoulder and turned back to his friends.

Shaggy gave him a weak smile and went back into the crowd. He came out at the other end, closer to the fence. He could see Velma and Daphne talking to a short guy with a buzz cut, who must be Kevin. From the looks of it, they weren't getting anywhere. Daphne's arms were crossed and Velma was paying as much attention to the ground as she was the the suspect in from of her.

"Well, on to the next one I guess Scoob," Shaggy said dejected. His stomach growled lougly. "But maybe we should get some more hotdogs first."

"Rah, rah. More rotdogs," Scooby said excitedly.

"Let's go to the other concession stand though," Shaggy thought aloud. "Well, I hope Fred is having better luck than any of us."

* * *

Fred was not having very good luck. They were reaching the end of the second quarter and the score was 14-3 Generals. To make matters worse, sweat was occluding his vision, and his sides were starting to get sore from the repeated tackles he was getting from both sides.

The center put the ball to the ground. Fred gulped, and call out the play. The ball was snapped, and Fred started looking back and forth around the field, searching desparately for open targets. Taking in a deep breath, he threw the ball as hard as he could towards a reciever to his left. To his relief, the reciever caught it. But the Southern Ohio tackle was ready, and the reciever barely took a step forward before he was on the grown and the whistle was blown.

"And now the Comets are on their fourth down," the announcer boomed over the loud speaker. "And it looks like the offense is coming in, so they have chosen to punt."

Fred followed the rest of the offensive line back to the sidelines, and tore of his helmet.

"JONES," a voice yelled over the roar of the stadium. "COME HERE."

Fred jogged over to Assistant Coach Waters.

"Did you see that tackle before you threw the ball?" Waters snapped.

"No, sir, I didn't," Fred admitted, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"I knew you didn't see it I just wanted to make sure that _you_ knew you didn't see it. If you're calling the shots, then you gotta look for that. And we're all counting on you. The whole damn school is counting on me, you hear me? We gotta win this one, son, and if we don't, it's on your head. And I'll have your head. Do you hear me? I said do you hear me?!" Waters said, shouting the last few words.

"YES SIR," Fred shouted back.

"Good. Now get going."

* * *

"Who was that yelling at Fred?" Velma asked as she, Daphne, Shaggy, and Scooby went back to their seats in the stands as the first half ended.

"Like that's the Assistant Coach Paul Waters," Shaggy said. He sat down, and started handing out boxes of food from the concessions to the girls, Scooby, and anyone else nearby. "Like Danny told me he's a real ass."

"Fred has said something like that too. Says he's vying for the head coach's job and has a nasty temper."

"Like Danny once told me that Waters loves being right, and every time they lose a game he makes a big scene about how his calls would have been right all long and the head coach is costing them the games. But like he also has no problem telling the players that too. Doesn't like to be wrong that guy."

"Fred also told me that he _is_ a good judge of which students would make good professional players. Fred said the last three players Waters identified got drafted in the first four rounds."

"And even though we didn't find any contracts or anything in the folders you brought us Shaggy, maybe your idea that he was signed to one isn't that far off," Velma stated. "And perhaps we _should_ take a better look at his office later on. If Waters was so good at identifying players to go pro, Danny would have been a clear choice."

"What was his last game like?" Daphne asked Shaggy as the Marching Comets band took the field to play their show.

"Like, it was an away game. They played two away games in a row, so I watched it em both on TV. The last one would have been the 11th. It wasn't great. Wasn't as bad as the week before, but it wasn't anything good either."

"Would Waters make any money if he helped sign a player to a pro spot?" Daphne asked. Shaggy shrugged.

"Like I don't know. It's possible though."

"If Waters was trying to get Danny signed, with or without Danny's knowledge and then Danny played poorly, I bet the recruiters or whatever they're called wouldn't want him anymore. And if Waters could have made money from it..."

"Then that gives Waters a reason to kill Danny," Velma concluded.

"Like, we _have_ to get back into that office tonight," Shaggy said seriously. He made a motion to stand up, but Daphne laid a hand on him.

"Let's just watch the rest of the game first. We can't do anything right now. We need Fred."

Shaggy considered this for a second, and then sat down again.

* * *

Time was ticking away, of that Fred was quite sure. Every time he looked up it seemed to move faster. Eight minutes in the third quarter... three minutes... thirty seconds... No one had scored, which was both good and bad; no more points lost, but no more points gained.

"We've got five minutes left in the fourth quarter, gentlemen," Head Coach Andrew Harris announced as he called the Comets' final timeout of the game. "We've gotta get some touchdowns. Jones, I'm counting on you. You gotta bring it, man. If you can't, I'll swap you out."

Fred nodded jerkily.

"Is that a yes to touchdowns or a yes to swapping you out?"

Fred considered. His arm was tired. His back was sore. He didn't have much left to give. But with Radomski benched, he knew the only person after him who could play quarterback was Darryl Huxley, a farmkid roughly the width of a cornstalk. The Southern Ohio tackles that had sacked Fred so many times would break Huxley in half."

"I can do it, sir," Fred said, forcing himself to sound confident. "I can get us some touchdowns."

And to his suprise (along with most of the crowd), he successfully threw a pass to an open receiver forty yards away who was able to get it clean and make his way into the end zone with little effort. Then the kicker not only got the extra point, but kicked a field goal on the next turnover.

The Comets turned over, then the Generals did. Back and forth, each team gaining only about twenty yards at a time, just to give it up on the opposition's next drive.

The score remained 14-13. Fred watched as the time went faster and faster until there were only twenty seconds to go. They had made no progress forward a flag had cost them an extra five yard, leaving them at third and fifteen.

Fred breathed deeply. He stood for a moment, taking in what could be the last play of the game. He exhaled, clearing his mind. He bent over, and called the play.

The ball was snapped. Fred searched for an open target. He saw one, one lonely reciever way back on the field. There was no way in hell Fred could make that pass. He wasn't good enough. But there was no other choice. Gripping the ball along the seams, he threw it hard.

"TOUCHDOWN COMETS. AND THAT'S THE GAME FOLKS. RIGHT DOWN TO THE LAST SECOND, NOT EVEN A CHANCE FOR THE EXTRA POINT. COMETS WIN 20-14 OVER THE SOUTHERN OHIO GENERALS. AND I'M SURE I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO DID _NOT_ SEE THIS ONE COMING."

Students rushed the field, the cheers and yells growing louder and louder. Soon the band joined in with the school fight song.

But Fred didn't care about them. He tore off his helmet, his head swiveling back and forth as the scanned the crowd for his friends. Who cared about the fans? Who cared about his parents, who he was sure were somewhere in the stands?

Finally he saw them. They were on the sidelines near the fifty yard lines. He had never been happier to see anyone in his life. Running as fast as he could, he acknowledged the slew of well-wishers and fans with brief nods. He didn't stop running until he was safely in Daphne's arms.

"You did it," she breathed as she hugged him. "You actually did it. I'm so proud of you."

Velma and Shaggy beamed as they watched the couple's embrace. Scooby was off running around the field, every so often sprinting back to the group to jump on someone before running off again.

After a solid minute of hugging, they broke apart, Daphne's sweater now splotchy with Fred's sweat.

"Shaggy," Fred said, turning to the tall kid. He offered a hand to Shaggy, who shook it. "I know I'm nowhere near as good as he was, but I hope I did Danny proud."

"Like man, you did Danny better than proud," Shaggy said. He gave Fred a hug, followed by another handshake. "Now all we have to do is catch the son of a bitch who killed him."


	9. Chapter 9

"And Fred did it! He actually made the pass and the guy scored and we won," Velma explained excitedly to her mother as she settled in at the dinner table of the Dinkleys home after the game.

"That sounds very nice dear," Susie nodded as she pulled her husband Dale's plate towards her and loaded it with string beans. "Will you be eating with us, Velma?"

"Uh, well, I'm not very hungry. We all ate at the game. But I can stay for a little while. Then my friends and I are meeting to... study...again."

"Again?" Susie said, setting the bowl down perhaps a little harder than she intended. "How big _is_ this exam?"

"Well, we just, uh, ran out of time to study the last chapter. But I'll be back by curfew. I promise."

"What about that slumber party your friend asked about? Aren't you going to that?" Susie asked.

"Well, I want to...but you said no," Velma replied, her brow furrowing.

"I did not say no."

"Well you didn't say yes either," Velma muttered.

Susie sighed deeply.

"I just... I just don't want you getting... I don't want you to run into trouble. That's all... And the idea of you...you growing up and doing all this stuff out in the world it just makes me, I mean, us nervous. I hope you understand that," Susie said, a hint of pleading in her voice.

"I...of course I understand that. I've always understood that," Velma said. "I just also understand that I take pretty good care of myself and I have found frien- a group of acquaintances that I trust."

"You really trust them?"

"Very much so."

"Then I guess you can go."

Velma felt her heart leap into her throat.

"You're... you're serious?"

"Yes. Just... if you go when will, when will we see you next?" Susie asked slowly.

"Uh, I don't know. I guess... tomorrow after the vigil? I'm sure we'll probably get lunch and maybe study some more before the gathering."

Susie thought this through for a moment.

"Alright. Well if you'll be gone for a day, I suggest you'll probably want to go pack a bag," Susie suggested as she resumed ladling food onto her and her husband's plates.

Velma thanked her mother profusely, and rushed to her room to pack. Once inside, she dialed the phone number Daphne had given her onto the phone on her bedside table. The cord stretched across the room as she packed up clean clothes, pajamas, and anything else she could think of that would either assist in the gang's "studying" or the slumber party.

"Hello? This is Daphne Blake," Daphne answered on the other end of the telephone line.

"Hi Daphne. It's Velma. I got permission to stay the night tonight."

"Oh, that's wonderful. I'm with Fred at his apartment right now. He needed to eat and rest. I'll call Shaggy and have him come pick you up in a little while. Then we'll go over to the stadium to see what we can find."

* * *

The gate to the stadium creaked loudly in the quiet night as Fred pulled it open. One by one, each member of the gang crept into the empty stadium.

"Should we worry about cameras or anything?" Daphne whispered as she and the gang followed Fred along a wall.

"Nah. School doesn't care that much. Plus I'm a team captain, so technically I have permission to be in here after hours."

Fred led them along the wall until they reached a door. Fred pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket and inserted one into the lock and turned. The door opened to reveal a dark stairwell, lined with dark murals that could were only seen because they looked like dark looming shadows.

"One sec," Fred muttered. There was a small _click_ , and light flooded the stairwell. Everyone recoiled, covering their eyes until they could adjust. Fred led them up the stairs. Scooby bounded up to catch up with him, with Shaggy, Daphne, and finally Velma in tow. Once up the stairs, Fred pulled out his keys again and unlocked the door.

The football center was surprisingly huge. Fred had led them into the lobby, which was full of more murals as well as glass cases holdng trophies, memorabilia, and more. Two large doors off to the left were marked with a sign that read _Locker Room_. A hall that branched off to the right led to what looked like offices, a laundry room, and equipment storage.

"Okay gang. Let's split up," Fred said, turning to the gang. Then he paused. "Wait... we're missing someone."

"I'm... here..." Velma called from the stairway. With one final heave, she came into the football center. Her forehead was glistening with sweat, and she was panting heavily.

"Sorry," Fred said slowly. "Uh... should we wait or...?"

"It's okay... just... go on..." she panted, leaning heavily on her crutch for support.

"Okay then. Well, let's split up and see what we can find. Daphne, you and I will go look in the head coach's office off to the right. Shaggy, Velma, and Scooby, you take Waters' office off to the left. When...whenever you're ready," Fred added.

"Like, sounds good man," Shaggy gave Fred the thumbs up. Fred returned it, and left with Daphne down the hall.

"You did really well today Freddie," Daphne beamed as she watched Fred shuffle through papers on the head coach's desk. "I've never seen you play that well before."

"Aww, thanks Daph," Fred said, returning her smile. He leaned back against the desk. "I knew you guys were out there trying to find answers. I was just doing my best to distract everyone else."

"Well you could've done that by playing poorly too," she said, raising an eyebrow. She stepped forward towards him, allowing him to hold her around the waist.

"But that wouldn't have been nearly as cool," Fred smirked. Daphne traced his cheek with her finger, leaning ever so closer until their lips met.

* * *

"Like you want to sit down?" Shaggy asked nervously as he, Velma, and Scooby entered Paul Waters' office. Velma was still breathing heavily, and was moving far slower than before.

She nodded stiffly to his question. Scooby nudged the coach's chair out from under the desk and Velma sat down.

"So," she said, focusing her breathing. "What exactly do you think we should be looking for?"

"Well, like I brought those papers over the other day but like we didn't find anything useful. Maybe a pro contract or like something else that might indicate why he died. I don't know, man. Like... something."

Velma nodded, and begun shuffling papers on the desk, much like Fred did in the other office. Shaggy and Scooby started opening drawers, first in the desk, then in the filing cabinets. For the most part, the room was silent, other than the quiet shuffling of papers and occasional slams of the cabinet.

Scooby put a paw around the handle to the bottom most drawer of the filing cabinet farthest from the door in the office. He pulled, but nothing happened. He clamped his jaws on it and tried again. Still nothing. He started whining, and scratching at the drawer until Shaggy and Velma turned to him.

"Like what is it, Scoob?" Shaggy asked, squatting down to try the drawer himself. Scooby whined again, and scratched at the bottom drawer. Shaggy gave it a tug. "Locked. Like I'd say that's pretty suspicious."

"Here. Hold on," Velma said as Shaggy started looking around for keys.

She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair, which fell over her face. She pushed the hair back behind her ear, and then started bending the bobby pin. She opened it up so it laid flat, picked off the rubber tip on one side and then bent that side up at a 90 degree angle. She scooted her chair closer to the cabinet, and leaned over.

For a moment, nothing happened. Velma wiggled the bobby pin around in the lock, tugging at the handle for a few minutes. Shaggy and Scooby watched silently as she worked. Shaggy's stomach growled while they watched, but he ignored it. He'd been ignoring it a lot lately.

Finally, with one final twist, the locked turned and Velma pulled the drawer open.

"Like wow man. That's pretty cool," Shaggy said, impressed, as he squatted down again to look at the drawer's contents. Velma smiled, and sat back in the chair to give herself a moment of repreive.

Shaggy shuffled through the drawers' contents. Several folders were marked 'contracts', but none of them contained more than one or two papers. Shaggy couldn't make out the names well, but he knew none of them said anything about Danny Snyder.

"Like what's this?" he said, pulling a small packet out of a folder marked 'legal'. He handed it to Velma.

"It's a Cease and Desist order," she read, frowning. "To C. Paul Waters regarding Daniel Joseph Snyder III."

"Like, that's Danny," Shaggy said, his heart gaining speed. He went back to the door and cleared his throat. "DAPHNE. FRED. LIKE GUYS COME IN HERE."

"Shaggy," Velma hissed, looking around. "Just because we _technically_ have permission to be in here doesn't mean we should go broadcasting it."

It didn't matter in the end though, as the only footsteps they heard belonged to Daphne and Fred, who came running looking. Both of their hair were a little messier than it had been a few minutes ago, and both seemed out of breath though they hadn't run far.

"You guys find something?" Fred asked, trying to look casual as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Yeah," Shaggy passed the order to Daphne and then to Fred.

"A Cease and Desist order?" Daphne asked confused. "Why would a football coach have a Cease and Desist order filed against them?"

"According to this it's in regards to verbal harrasment and threats of bodily harm," Fred said, his finger following the words on the paper. "This order is to Clyde Paul Waters in regards to Daniel Joseph Snyder III. This order requests that Mr. Waters cease and desist all verbal harassment and threats against Mr. Snyder. This is in response to an occurence on 4 October 1969 between Mr. Waters and Mr. Snyder. This order requires Mr. Waters to cease the following actions or else face lawsuit filed by Mr. Snyder. Actions in violation of this order include, but are not limited to: verbal harrassment, physical harrassment, excessive correction, threats of bodily harm. Dated 5 October 1969. Please sign and respond no later than 4:30pm on 10 October 1969. Signed by Daniel Snyder II, Esq. and notarized by Betsy Newell Snyder."

"Like those are Danny's parents."

"What happened on the fourth of October?" Daphne asked Fred.

"It was an away game against some school from Indiana. We played terribly, and no one moreso than Danny. He got sacked four times, fumbled twice, and had three of his passes intercepted and returned for touchdowms. We lost 48-0. When we got back, Coach Waters laid into Danny, worse than I'd ever seen anyone do to anybody. He yelled and screamed, told him he better get his act together or he'd be off the time. Said he'd never seen a quarterback play so terribly in his life."

"So it looks like Danny went home and told his parents, and they wrote up and signed an order the next day," Daphne said, reading the order Fred had passed back to her.

"What woul an order like this do to a football coach, if it came from a player?" Velma asked. She extended a hand towards Daphne, who passed the paper to her.

"Well, it would really be at the discretion of the player," Fred said. "The terms are so vague it would be up to the person as to what constitutes such actions. And given Coach Waters' temper, anything that would be anywhere near his normal coaching style could be considered 'excessive correction'. So basically, any slip up, any shout or yell that Danny were to be threatened by would violate the cease and desist. It would severely limit Waters' ability to do coaching of any kind."

"And any slip-up, even accidental, would violate the order and could result in legal ramifications," Daphne said slowly.

"Look at this," Velma pointed to the signature line at the bottom of the paper. "There's a space for him to sign it and space for a lawyer to sign it. But he didn't have legal representation sign it, so he must not of argued it."

"I doubt he could," Fred said. "The coaches don't make very much. Even if he could afford to get a lawyer for this, he probably couldn't get one for any lawsuits if he broke it. Plus this was a private order. The university probably wouldn't step in on his behalf."

"So if Coach Waters were to do anything that Danny considered harassment, he could press charges. And it's in such vague terms that just about anything could constitute harassment. Waters could face big consequences like heavy fines or losing any chances of becoming head coach," Daphne concluded.

"But like guys Danny would never do that," Shaggy added quickly.

"We didn't mean to imply he would," Daphne said apologetically. "We just meant theoretically."

"If he signed it, its legally binding. He'd have to change his ways immediately or face punishment. And if he can't afford a lawyer, he'd have no chance to get out of trouble if he broke it. You guys," Velma said slowly. "This is motive for murder."


	10. Chapter 10

"So what do we do now?" Daphne asked as the gang made their way inside Fred's apartment. "Call the police?"

"The evidence is circumstantial at best," Fred said, shaking his head. "I say we wait until the morning and call the tipline. I think that's about all we can do."

"Like, I guess that's good enough," Shaggy sighed as he collapsed on the couch. "I'd really prefer to be like certain, but I guess it's better than nothing."

"I understand, man," Fred said, clapping Shaggy on the shoulder. "I'd like to be more sure too. But at the very least, maybe the cops will open it back up and they'll take it from here."

"You know one place we haven't investigated yet," Daphne said as she pushed the coffee table in the living room off to the side.

"Where?"

"The river," she stated as she stoof up again. "We've spent a lot of time in here, and at the stadium and everything, but we haven't gone to the scene of the crime."

"Or Casem Hall," Velma pointed out. "We don't know why Danny would've been there on a Sunday afternoon."

"Those are both places we could go tomorrow," Fred said. He stretched, and let out a deep sigh.

"So I guess all that's left for tonight is to have a slumber party," Daphne said with a hint of a devilish grin.

"And like what exactly does that entail?" Shaggy asked.

"Well, we can gossip and eat popcorn and tell scary stories," Daphne said excitedly.

"Rary rories?" Scooby whimpered. He leapt on to the couch Shaggy and Fred sat on and knocked the wind out of both of them as he struggled to hide under Shaggy's arm.

"Like chill man," Shaggy wheezed, trying to push the dog off. "They're like not real."

"Maybe no scary stories," Fred added, also wheezing under the weight of the dog.

"Well why don't we all change into our pajamas and then we'll let the festivities begin," Daphne instructed.

There was a murmur of agreement as each member started fishing clothes out of his or her bag. Fred and Shaggy left to change upstairs. Velma and Daphne stayed in the living room for a moment as they searched their bags for their nightly necessities.

"So, would you like to sleep on the couch or the floor?" Daphne asked as she pulled off her socks.

"Uh, the floor?" Velma answered, unsure.

"Really?" Daphne asked astounded. "I was sure you were going to say couch. I mean who wants to sleep on the floor?"

"Well, I never have. So I think it could be interesting," Velma shrugged. She jimmied the straps on her leg brace until they unlocked.

"Well I wish you luck, because I assure you it will be the last time you willingly sleep on the floor," Daphne said.

Velma left for the bathroom just as the boys, now dressed in their pajamas, returned to the living room. They helped Daphne finish moving furniture out of the way. Shaggy dropped a handful of blankets on the floor and he and Scooby began unfolding them.

"Daph I don't know how much gossiping I've got in me," Fred admitted as he tossed his pillow onto the floor. "I am exhausted."

"Well you have an excuse Freddie," Daphne said as hugged him. Then she turned quickly and raised a finger to the others. "But the rest of you don't."

"Actually like Daph, I'm pretty t-t-tired too," Shaggy yawned. He laid down on one of the blankets, only for Scooby to jump on top of him.

"Likewise," Velma said apologetically. "It's been a long day."

"But you guys! It's supposed to be a slumber party," Daphne pouted.

"And I think we prefer to slumber than party," Fred said. He draped an arm around Daphne's shoulders and squeezed.

Daphne, still putting, sat down on the couch, as everyone else laid down on the blankets on the ground. Everyone except for Scooby, who, having been unsuccessful in his attempt to sleep on top of Shaggy, had curled up in an armchair. Within minutes, both boys and the dog were asleep.

"Well this isn't what I was expecting at all," Daphne muttered. "I thought we'd stay up and at least talk about stuff. I know we're not kids anymore, but that's the fun part."

"I can stay awake for a little while longer," Velma said, though the yawn immediately following her statement indicated otherwise. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know…Boys? The world? Politics?"

"I don't know very much about any of those," Velma admitted. "Well I mean, I can name countries and have reasonable ideas of what is going on in said countries, but nothing else more than that."

"What about boys?" Daphne rolled over on her stomach and rested her chin in her hands. "Can we talk about boys?"

"You can if you'd like. I'll sit here and listen."

To show her support, Velma sat up and gave Daphne her full undivided attention.

"Fine. I guess I can talk about Fred. Well, he and I have been together for about eight months now. We met in this investigative journalism class that both of us took for fun. I'm a history major, and he's a business major, so neither of us really _needed_ it, but we both had keen interest in the subject matter. We were assigned a project…"

Daphne launched into the full story of how she and Fred met and the eight months they had so far spent together. To be fair the story was very interesting, and Daphne was a very good storyteller. However, she was not attentive to her audience, and she was twenty-six minutes into her story before she realized that Velma had fallen asleep.

Grumbling to herself about her friends' inability to participate in a slumber party correctly, Daphne clicked of the lamp pulled a blanket up over herself. Immediately she started to feel drowsy, and within five minutes, she was asleep too.

* * *

It was dark, save for the little bit of shimmery light somewhere above her. She could hear the muffled shouts of happy children, but the pressure against her ears was mounting. The pressure on her chest was mounting too.

Suddenly the feeling, the true feeling of the pressure hit her. It was water. She was underwater. Desperately, she tried to swim up, to get to that distant, shimmery light. But no matter how hard she pushed, how hard her arms tried, she couldn't move forward.

The light disappeared as a large figure jumped into the water, right overtop her. She felt the force of the water drag her down as she frantically tried to swim harder.

Something grabbed her ankle and yanked her down. Water was forced into her lungs as she tried to gasp for air. The thing grabbing her didn't let up. It pulled again. Trying to keep her mouth shut and her eyes open against the growing force of the water, she looked down.

The bloated body of Danny Snyder gripped her leg. She could feel the sliminess of his skin against hers. She struggled to get out of his grasp, but he was stronger. He pulled down as she pulled up. But her body was growing weaker, more and more tired as the water overtook her.

Danny's corpse pulled once more, and did not let up. He pulled her down, farther and farther until there was nothing but darkness.

* * *

Daphne sat bolt upright, her chest heaving. Forgetting she was sleeping on a couch, she went to roll over and promptly fell off the couch… and onto Velma.

Fred, who had been jolted awake by the sound, flipped a switch to turn on the light.

"Wha- what happened?"

"I had… just a bad dream," Daphne said as she climbed back on the couch. "Uh, nothing to worry about. Just, you know, just a nightmare."

"A nightmare so bad you rolled off the couch?" Fred asked, one eyebrow raised.

"No I didn't… I forgot I was sleeping on the couch and rolled over," Daphne explained, rubbing her elbow. "Are you okay, Velma?"

"Yes. Though I will say being fallen on was rather a different consequence of sleeping on the floor than I originally imagined," Velma said, pulling her knees in towards her chest.

"Like what was the dream?"

"Uh, just my normal nightmare," Daphne said with a nervous laugh. "About the time I almost drowned as a child."

"Yikes," Shaggy said. "Like that does not sound good."

"No. It's not good. But this time it was different. This time-" Daphne stopped herself, considering her words carefully. "I think… I think working on a case where someone drowned just messed with my subconscious."

"That's understandable," Fred said getting to his feet. He crossed over the couch, careful not to step on anyone, and sat down next to Daphne.

The group chatted about nothing for a little while before everyone eventually fell back asleep. Everyone, except for Daphne. Though she laid on the couch trying to think of the next part of the memory where her cousin pulled her out of the water, her mind kept flashing to the moment she had been pushed farther in. And it seemed that every time she closed her eyes, she saw Danny.

As she felt into an uneasy sleep, the flashes began to change. It wasn't just him in the water, his lifeless hand pulling at her. The dream changed to an aerial view of the scene. Daphne could see Danny falling in, a faceless figure watching from the water's edge. She could see Danny in the water, struggling against the late October current. She could almost feel the freezing water's pressure growing, pulling, the way her nightmare had. But she couldn't move. She was forced to watch him die, and no matter who much she worked to get closer to the faceless figure, she was stuck watching him die, hoping against hope that at least once he might live.


	11. Chapter 11

Shaggy flipped pancake into the air and caught it in the skillet, one hand behind his back. Scooby jumped back and forth across the kitchen floor, impatiently waiting for him to drop one.

"Wow, I don't remember the last time I slept in until eleven," Fred said as he plugged in the coffee pot. "Feels good, eh gang?"

There was a murmur of agreement from everyone except Daphne.

At some point during the night, she decided to just stop trying to sleep. There was no point in watching Danny die again and again. Every time the movie started over in her head, she would try to get close enough to see the figure, but it didn't happen. So here she was now, trying not to fall asleep at the kitchen table.

"Are you okay, Daphne?" Velma asked quietly as Fred poured them cups of coffee.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Daphne lied. "Are you okay? You know, from when I fell on top of you."

"Yes, I'm fine. Apparently falling and being fallen _on_ feel the same way the next day," Velma said, with a small smile, which faded when she saw the look on Daphne's face. "I'm fine. Really. I was just kidding."

Daphne nodded, and sipped the coffee gratefully.

"So, like should we go down to the river?" Shaggy asked as he slid pancakes onto the plates Fred got down from the cupboard.

"Sure," Velma said. "I'm not sure how much we'll find since it's been two weeks since he died, but it's worth a shot."

"Like, we should eat first though."

"Agreed," Fred said as his stomach growled loudly.

Everyone but Daphne laughed. Daphne sighed heavily, and began to eat her own pancakes. Her head hurt and she just wanted to go back to sleep.

Sensing that something was wrong, Velma reached under the table and took Daphne's hand. She squeezed it for a moment, and then let go to resume eating her pancakes. Daphne's heart swelled at this tiny gesture of caring, but her head was throbbing too much to linger on it.

* * *

If Velma, Fred, and Daphne were being perfectly honest with themselves, they would not be caught _dead_ in Shaggy's van.

It was a 1964 paneled van painted a bright blue. A green stripe ran down both sides, and Shaggy had taken it upon himself to adorn the stripe with orange flowers.

"Like, my dad gave me money when I graduated high school to buy a car. He wasn't exactly impressed with my choice, but like I didn't care."

The other three kids nodded suspiciously.

"Well, come one. Like, we gotta go," Shaggy motioned them to get into the van.

"We don't have to go _now,"_ Daphne said as she walked a circle around the van, eyeing it closely. "The vigil isn't until 7, so we've got a little time. You know, it's a nice day. Maybe we could walk."

"Like, come on guys. It's already two. We've gotta go now so we still have time to visit Casem Hall. So, like hop in," Shaggy tossed the keys to Fred. "Like you drive man. See how she handles."

Fred exchanged looks with Velma and Daphne. Daphne gave him a push towards the driver's seat. Fred gulped, and walked to the other side. He climbed up into the driver's seat. Daphne climbed up next to him. Shaggy slid the back door open, and Scooby leapt onto the seat.

"Like sorry buddy, but you've gotta go in the very back."

Scooby whined, but jumped over into the empty back space anyways. Shaggy stepped back to let Velma in, but she motioned for him to get in first. He shrugged, and climbed in. Velma slid her crutch under the seat, and took a deep breath. She gripped the back of the bench seat with one hand and the side of the doorframe firmly, and lifted her right leg into push herself up. With one heave, she pulled herself up and into the seat, and grabbed the door to pull it shut. It shut with a slam so hard the gang was sure they heard the glass wobble in the windows.

"Like, maybe don't push it that hard next time, okay Superman?" Shaggy said. He tapped the roof of the van. "I'm not sure she's not strong enough to handle what you can throw at her."

Velma nodded, blushing slightly.

They drove for about twenty minutes before they reached the basin of the Coolsville River. It was at least a mile off campus, which made them all wonder even more how Danny Snyder ended up all the way out here.

Fred squinted in the sun as he hopped down out of the driver's seat. He crossed around the van to pull open the door for Daphne, and then pulled the back door open. Velma slid down, followed by Shaggy and Scooby.

Daphne stretched for a moment, taking in the warmth of the sun (one thing the van did not have was a working heater). She took in a deep cold breath which chilled her deep into her lungs, but distracted her from the pain in her head. She looked over the scene.

There was a sign in front of them that read _Coolsville River, basin_ , along with a few smaller warning signs. Beside it was a stone bench, and just a bit farther were a few picnic tables and a metal grill. A sign slightly beyond that read _Please do not stand on the tables,_ with a Coolsville Ordinance reference written just below it.

"What would you say, about thirty yards across?" Fred estimated, one hand raised to shield his arms.

"Like just about. Up along here, it's about two feet max, but back there," Shaggy pointed to a bank to their left. "It's deeper. Maybe three or four feet."

"Where was he found, exactly?" Daphne asked. She hung back with Velma, far from the waters' edge, as the boys went closer to observe.

"Like up here, I think," Shaggy went closer to a large boulder. He scrambled up it and peered out over the water. "I see a branch thing. Like he might have gotten caught on that and went under."

Then, without warning, Shaggy leapt off the boulder onto the ground, and plunged into the water. All three of the others yelled various warnings abou currents and the wind chill. Scooby, loyal to a tee, ran in after him,but as soon as he touched the water, he ran back out whimpering loudly.

"Like, I found something," Shaggy called. The rest of the gang watched as he tugged at a large waterlogged dead tree. Scooby tried to run again to help him, but didn't make it any farther the second time.

"What did you find?" Fred called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Like hold on," Shaggy called back.

With one last tug, he tore off a branch of the tree and carried it back to the bank.

"What exactly are we supposed to be looking at?" Daphne asked as Shaggy threw the branch down in front of them.

"Like look at the way those twigs are ripped off. This branch was on the north side of the tree, but the twigs were ripped off from the south. Same as the current."

"Which means?"

"It means that Danny gripped onto it as he was carried downstream," Velma concluded. "He was still alive when he went in the water."

"Let's check down here," Fred said, leading them farther down the river.

Scooby darted off in front of them to bark at a squirrel in a tree nearby.

"Like be careful," Shaggy warned. "There's a lot of mud."

The rest of the gang took heed of his warning, and slowed so as not to slip.

"I bet he was pulled out up here," Daphne said, pointing to a narrowing of the river where the bank jutted out into the water. "It looks pretty deep, and if the current was strong enough it could have held him under until he died. Then the bank stopped his body from going further downstream."

"I would agree," Fred said. He kicked the dirt at his feet. "Little holes. Probably for the stakes the cops used to hang up the crime scene tape."

"So this explains where he died and where he was found," Daphne said, tapping a forefinger against her chin. "But it doesn't explain where he went in."

"Let's go back. Because we can assume that he fell in upriver because we have evidence that he was pulled downriver," Fred said, taking the lead back up the bank towards the van. "So it might have been somewhere up here."

Fred and Shaggy broke off near the boulder, trying to judge where the drop off was. Daphne and Velma, trying to keep their distance from the river, made their way back up towards the stone bench and the sign. Daphne took a seat on the bench. Velma was on her way to the other side of the bench when her foot slipped on patch of mud and she hit the ground hard.

"Jeepers!" Daphne exclaimed, leaping up to help her friend up. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes. You don't have to ask that every time something happens," Velma muttered. "It's just mud. Maybe a bruise. I'm fine. This is nothing new."

Velma handed Daphne her crutch. Daphne set it up against the bench, and moved in closer, offering a hand. Velma waved it away, instead opting to grip onto the side of the bench to push off of. She tried twice to no avail, the bottoms of her shoes too slippery to gain any traction. It didn't help that her bad leg had gotten caught under her and made it very difficult to get a good foothold.

"Whoa, what happened?" Shaggy called as he, Fred, and Scooby jogged over to the girls.

"I just... slipped," Velma grunted. She managed so slide her right leg under her and push off so she could get into the bench. She sat back for a moment, her arm resting on the back ledge of the bench. She breathed hard.

"My God. Are you okay?" Fred asked as they arrived at the bench. Fred came around to Velma's side, careful not to meet the same fate with the mud.

"YES I'm fine," Velma snapped. "I just slipped. Stop acting like I almost died."

"Are you sure? Because that doesn't look very good," Fred said, pointing to the side of the bench. Velma leaned forward to see what he was looking at.

It was dried blood. It seemed to start at the corner of the back ledge, and dripped down the side of the bench.

"That's not mine," Velma said, shaking her head.

Fred knelt down, still wary of the mud, to look at it better. He raised a finger to touch it, but Velma stopped him.

"Don't touch it," she warned, swatting his hand away. "One, you'll mess up the evidence, and two, blood can carry disease."

"I don't think we have to worry. It's not like he died of anything bad like polio or anything," Fred said off-handedly as he observed the blood closely.

Shaggy, Daphne, and Velma stared at him. It took him a second to realize what he said. He looked straight at Velma, who looked ready to cry. Or hit him. He wasn't quite sure.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I didn't know I really didn't-"

"Whatever," Velma spat. She pulled a handkerchief out of her skirt pocket and threw it at him, and crossed her arms. She could feel the mud soaking through her sweater, but she didn't care.

"Like, I don't know if this was Danny's blood," Shaggy said as he knelt down next to Fred. "Can I have that?"

Fred handed him the handkerchief. The rest of the gang watched as he put the handkerchief in his hand and picked something up from the ground.

They all looked at it, and then at each other.

"I think I know who did it," Fred said slowly. "And I think it's time to set a trap."


	12. Chapter 12

Casem Hall was dark and deserted. Outside, the faint chimes of the campus clocktower rang seven times.

One solitary figure opened the northern most door and crept his way inside. Something was wrong. Weren't there supposed to be more people here? And what was with the lights.

The figure walked down the short hall into the main lobby area. Short hallways branched off in four directions, all meeting under one large dome. The lone person walked into the center, turning around and around, trying to figure out where everyone went.

Suddenly, a light went on down the hallway on the left. A tall blonde guy the size of a football player was standing in front of the door. He cracked his knuckles menacingly.

Another light went on down to the right. A black girl with a reddish-brown afro and a purple dress stood, feet firmly planted on the ground, arms crossed in front of the door.

A light went on behind them. A girl in an orange sweater leaned her back against the door, a wooden club, no crutch, in her hand.

A light went on straight ahead. A Great Dane, half as tall as the doors he guarded, snarling as he paced back and forth.

"Stan," a familiar voice said.

Stan jumped and turned.

Shaggy stepped out of the shadows, towering over Stan.

"Like where is everyone else, man?" Stan asked. "You know. For the vigil?"

"They're down at the football field," Fred said. "I caught up with Sanders and Dixon and gave them permission."

"Oh well. Then I guess we should all get down there, shouldn't we?" Stan laughed nervously.

"Like, you're not going anywhere," Shaggy said, his voice low and grave. "Least of all to a vigil for Danny Snyder."

"But why not man? I mean, I wanna pay my respects," Stan said. He looked around nervously. He couldn't tell if it was imagination, but the figures near the door seemed to have moved closer.

"Pay your respects?" Shaggy asked. Anger started to bubble in his chest. "How dare you."

"How dare I what, man? Like he died. I need to pay my respects.

Shaggy made to lunge forward, but Fred shouted and he stopped.

"Why did you kill him Stan?"

"What? I don't know what you're talking about, man. I-"

"Why did you kill him?" Shaggy repated slowly.

"Man, I don't know what you're talking about," Stan declared, though fear was rising in his voice.

"What happened to your jacket Stan?" Daphne asked casually as she stepped closer to the two men in the center of the rotunda.

"My j-jacket?" Stan stammered. "I, uh, caught it on a doorknob."

"Really?" Fred asked.

"Y-yeah. Caught it on a doorknob a long time ago," Stan turned back to Shaggy. "Come on man, you gotta believe me. You know this jacket's like seven years old. I ripped it a while ago. Come on man you believe me, right?"

Shaggy pulled out the handkerchief which had been bundled in his back pocket. He laid it open on his palm. Inside was a scrap of leather, the same shade as Stan's jacket.

"We found that by the river?" Velma stated, stepping forward. "Next to dried blood."

Shaggy grabbed Stan by the collar and nearly lifted him up off the ground.

"Why'd you kill him?"

"Like I didn't man, come on. Let me down," Stan said, struggling to come loose. "You're crazy. Like I didn't do anything man."

"Like we have enough evidence to put you at the scene of the crime," Shaggy said, not loosening his grip a millimeter. "So just tell us why you killed him?"

"I didn't man, come on. I didn't."

"Put him down," Fred instructed as Stan started to turn the slightest shade of blue.

Shaggy did as he was told, but did not break eye contact as he lowered Stan back to the floor.

Suddenly, Daphne had a thought. She made eye contact with Velma, and jerked her head at Stan. Velma gave the slightest jerk of not understanding. Daphne repeated the gesture.

Velma looked back at Stan. The gash on his jacket was right in front of her. She looked back to Daphne and nodded.

"The person who was last seen with Danny got hurt on that bench," Daphne stated.

Without warning, Velma poked Stan hard in the side, right over the tear in his jacket. He crumpled to the ground.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed, holding a hand to the wound. "Fine, fine. I was there with him. But that doesn't mean I killed him."

"Like why were you there then, huh?" Shaggy asked, his voice now full of rage. "Why were you there?"

"Because my number came up, man," Stan cried. "My number came up. And Danny, Danny was the only guy I ever knew who came back from Nam okay. Like he didn't get hurt or you know get depressed or drink himself to death or whatever. And I-I'm fuckin' terrified man. And so I followed Danny down to the river. He... he went there sometimes to do this weird meditation thing. Took his shoes off and everything. Just sat on the bench with his eyes closed. So I went up to him and started asking him about it. Told him why I was there."

"And what did he say?" Fred asked. The gang had gotten so close that they surrounded Stan, who was still on the floor.

"Nothin. Wouldn't tell me a damn thing. And you know, I'm whiggin out and I-I get a little angry and I push him. Knocks him right off the bench. And now he's mad you know, so he pushes me back, and that's when I hit the bench."

"And then what happened?" Shaggy asked.

"Nothing, man. I left."

"And then what happened?" Shaggy repeated. He knelt down and lifted Stan off the floor by the collar again.

"And then I pushed him," Stan cried. "I pushed him back and he slipped on the mud and landed in the river. And the current was so fast, he just got swept away. And I was gettin all woozy from the blood and couldn't get to him. And he just disappeared man. He just went under and I didn't see him come back up. I didn't mean to, man. I didn't mean to."

Stan started crying, repeating "I didn't mean to" over and over again.

"Keep him there," Fred ordered. "I'm gonna go call the police."

Shaggy towered over Stan, who just kept sobbing.

"I didn't mean to man. I didn't mean to."

"Well I think it's safe to say that you're not going to Vietnam."

* * *

"So wait," Fred said, stopping Tony Sanders and Lex Dixon as the vigil crowd dispersed from the football field. "If you guys didn't kill him, why did you have his stuff?"

Sanders and Dixon exchanged surreptitious glances, and then looked back to Fred.

"You know about that?"

"Yeah. My girlfriend overheard you guys talking in the library," Fred said. He jerked a thumb back at Daphne, who, along with Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby were talking to reporters and vigil attendees about the confrontation with Stan.

"Oh. Well," Sanders rubbed the back of his neck.

"His mom gave them to us," Dixon admitted. "She wanted them to be placed in an archive case in the football center. As an 'in memoriam' or whatever. We didn't want to do it too soon, because like it's too fresh you know?"

"Plus we knew the cops had closed it up so fast that someone was bound to get suspicious and look into how he died. And with his stuff, we looked guilty," Sanders motioned to the scene around them. "Case and point."

"Well, now that we've caught the real killer, I think you're safe to put that together," Fred clapped Dixon on the shoulder. "Thanks, guys."

Fred wandered back over to the rest of the gang just as the last reporter was finishing up.

"Ah, Fred Jones, is it? You're sort of the leader of this group it seems," he asked, scribbling on a notebook. Fred nodded. "You're colleagues here were just telling us about how you put all the pieces together and how it led to the kid. Any comments you'd like to add?"

"I don't think so. It was a team effort, and I trust whatever they said," Fred said with a smile. He put one arm around Daphne and hugged her close to him.

The reporter finished the line he wrote and muttered a word of thanks before he left. Fred turned back to the team.

"Alright gang. Let's go home."

There was a murmur of assent, and the gang started to leave for the parking lot near Casem Hall.

Daphne was up ahead, comforting Shaggy, Fred not far behind. He looked back to glance at something, when he noticed Velma trailing them. He slowed his pace slightly so he could fall in step with her.

"Look, I just wanted to say that I really am sorry," Fred said quietly. "I-I didn't mean it to come out that way. It wasn't about you, it was just kind of a thing that we said. I didn't mean you to take it personally. Really I didn't."

"Trust me, I'm the first person to say that polio is bad time. It's just," she sighed. "It's... it hurts to have it, even references to it, thrown around so casually. We've had a vaccine for fifteen years. It's not so scary anymore. We've moved on from it as a society, but... you know...I can't. And I know what you said wasn't meant to be directed at me, but... but it doesn't really make it hurt any less."

"I understand. I won't say it again."

Velma smiled weakly and nodded.

"Hey you know what we never figured out?" Daphne asked suddenly, stopping the group as she turned around.

"What?"

"Who was Sarah? You know, the girl Danny was writing the letters to?"

"I think I know that one, " Velma said, pushing her glasses up her nose. "She was his fiancée."

"Like no," Shaggy shook his head. "Danny would have told me if he was getting married."

"Well, I think they were engaged but had no plans yet to marry," Velma explained.

"And why was that?"

"Because she was stationed overseas. I can only assume they met at the end of Danny's deployment, and that Sarah has either not yet returned from duty, or has been deployed again. That's why she was worried about their codes being intercepted. In the military, coded letters from the outside would have been suspicious."

"But Danny probably didn't want anyone to know about her in case he or she didn't make it out alive," Fred said, thinking out loud.

"All of this is purely assumption," Velma said in response to Shaggy's face.

"Like it makes sense though," Shaggy admitted sadly. "And I bet like she doesn't even know he's dead."

"We'll take care of that for you," Daphne said quickly. "Don't worry about that part. We've got it."

"Hey," Fred said, clapping Shaggy on the shoulder. "How about a celebratory dinner down at Gregor's? In honor of Danny."

Shaggy smiled weakly, and nodded.

"Like yeah. Dinner for Danny."

* * *

Gregor's Restaraunt was mostly empty, as eight thirty pm on a Sunday doesn't really qualify as 'dinner rush'.

The gang sat at a corner booth, chatting as they at their meals. Occasionally one of them would toss a French fry to Scooby who sat on the floor at the end of the table. It had started to rain shortly after the students had cleared from the vigil, and it was slowly developing into a storm.

Shaggy ordered a round of pie, for everyone, just as he and Fred started chatting about how well the van, which Fred had jokingly nicknamed "The Mystery Machine" handled on the road.

Velma moved her last piece of chicken around with her fork, her chin resting in her hand.

"What's wrong?" Daphne asked quietly.

"It all goes back to normal now, right?" Velma asked. "I mean, we solved the mystery. We caught the bad guy. Now we just go back to our normal lives."

"I guess," Daphne shrugged. "Though we did just catch a murderer, so I'm not sure how normal our lives can be from now on."

"Will I get to see you guys again?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Daphne asked, taken aback.

"Well, just that... there's no reason for us all to hang out together again," Velma said. "So I don't know if I'll see you guys again. I mean, sure we have Philosophy together, but that's only until the end of the quarter..."

"But... we're friends," Daphne said slowly. " _That's_ a reason to spend time together. Just to spend time together."

"Really?" Velma said, perking up. "Like, we can really just spend time together? Just because?"

"Of course," Daphne said. "I mean, whether or not we solve more mysteries, we're going to remain friends."

"Oh thank God," Velma sighed, relieved.

The bell on the door tinkled. Their conversations ceased as they turned to see who it was.

A red-haired cop looked around the diner for a moment before he saw the gang.

"Hello kids," he said, sweeping his hat off as he greeted them. "I'm Officer Andy Schwartz with the Coolsville Police Department. I wanted to say, on behalf of the department, thank you for your work on the Danny Snyder case. I'm sure I'm not the only guy at the station who thinks we probably should have looked into it further. Anyways, I wanted to congratulate you in person."

"Like, thank you sir," Shaggy said slowly. He looked back to the gang, who all seeemed as suprised as he was.

"You're welcome. You definitely deserve it," Officer Schwartz said. "However, there's something else. Something happened earlier, and since we're pretty busy over at the station and you guys did such a good job, we wondered if you might want to look into it."

The gang looked at each other.

"Look in to what, sir?" Fred asked.

"Well, a professor who was visiting the history department from England never showed up. We got confirmation that he arrived at the airport in Cleveland, unloaded the knight, you know the suit of armor that he was bringing with him, and rented a truck to drive it down here. But some kids just found the truck on Martinsville Road, with the suit of armor in the front seat and the professor nowhere to be found. And the kids say, and I'm just repeating this, I don't know if it's true or not... but they swore that they saw the suit of armor walking around. We're too busy to look into it, and if I'm being honest we don't really know where to begin," Officer Schwartz explained. "You kids interested in looking into it?"

The gang exchanged glances once again.

"Yes, sir."

"Wonderful. We look forward to hearing from you."

Officer Schwartz tipped his hat and left. A waitress delivered a bill to the table, which Fred paid for. As they stood, pulling on their coats, the storm that had been threatening since they had left the vigil broke. Lightning flashed as gathered at the door waiting on Fred.

"Like, zoinks," Shaggy said, jumping at the flash. "What a night for a knight."


End file.
